


Fractured Fairytale

by fuzzytomato



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzytomato/pseuds/fuzzytomato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur does not believe in magic. At all. Which is bad for him since he’s been sucked into a parallel universe where he keeps running into people he knows who don’t know him. Even worse, his guide is a hapless kind of sorcerer, they’ve received dodgy directions from his morally dubious half-sister, and some leathery winged beast keeps going on about some kind of quest and destiny. Arthur will be lucky to get out of his current predicament alive much less be able to get back to his own life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Arthur snuggled further into his mother’s side, reveling in the warmth of her skin and the familiar and comforting scent of her perfume. Her soft hair draped over her shoulder and tickled his cheek as he nestled into the curve of her body, both of them propped in the bed. His favorite book lay open on his lap and he ran his small fingers over the picture of the fire breathing dragon that had its wings outstretched, talons curved, as it flew over the heads of the knights. It was attacking the magnificent castle, a plume of flame erupting from its open jaws, and smoke spiraled against the watercolor blue of the sky.

“Will you read it again Momma?” he asked.

She smiled fondly albeit tired. “How about I just read your favourite part again? I know it’s the bit about the brave knight that faces down the troll.”

Arthur nodded enthusiastically while he gripped his plastic sword tighter in his chubby fist. “Yes! I love that part! I’m going to be a knight when I grow up.”

“Knights are very brave,” his mother said, pulling him in closer and flipping through the pages in the old book. “But don’t you like the magician?”

Arthur looked down at the picture of the man in the swirling blue robes and pointed hat. The wizard’s hands were open and stars and lights flickered between his spread fingers.

“Magic is for babies,” Arthur answered very seriously. “Dad says magic is for the im... imp… impractical.” Arthur puffed his chest out proudly at pronouncing the difficult word.

“Your father would say that,” his mother said. She laid her cheek on the top of Arthur’s golden head and sighed. “But do you know I believe in magic?”

Arthur twisted around, face scrunched, but eyes wide, disbelieving. “You believe in magic?”

“Of course. How do you think I got you?” she asked with a soft smile and a tickle to his side.

Arthur giggled and squirmed. “I’m not made of magic,” Arthur protested. He brandished his plastic sword. “I’m a knight!”

“Just because you are a knight doesn’t mean you can’t believe in magic.”

Arthur considered this seriously. He wanted to be a knight but the magic in the pictures did look kind of cool. And his momma believed in magic so…

“Okay, Momma. I’ll believe in magic too.”

She patted his head. “That’s a good boy. Now, do you want to hear about that troll?” His mother reached to turn the page but his touch stopped her.

“Actually, Momma, can you read me the part about the magic?”

“Of course, my dear. Now, let’s see. _The brave knight and the powerful sorcerer faced many trials and tribulations and became good friends along their journey. Together, with the use of sword and magic, they were able to defeat the tyrant and unite the kingdom. They restored peace and balance to the land. The knight ruled for many years with the sorcerer at his side and the people enjoyed a golden age of wisdom and magic. The End._ ”

Arthur sighed. “I _do_ like that part Momma but I still like the troll best. Could you read me it again?”

She smiled then shifted in the bed, and let out a yawn, as she sunk back into the pillows. “Momma is tired now, Arthur. I think it’s time you find Nanny Helen.”

Arthur slumped but reluctantly closed the book and pulled it to his chest. “Goodnight, Momma.” He leaned up and kissed her on the cheek.

Careful of the wires that hooked his mother to various instruments and the metal bar on the side of the hospital bed, Arthur made his way down to the floor. Once away from his mother’s side, her soothing scent faded and the overwhelming smell of hospital and antiseptic assaulted his senses, thick and cloying, and he wrinkled his nose against it. He cast one last glance over his shoulder; saw his mother already asleep, her skin pale and closed eyes dark like bruises. He clutched his book a little tighter.

He would believe in magic. He’d believe in anything if it would mean his mother could come home again.

Arthur was not allowed to see his mother every day because his father said she was too weak to be watching after him, so the next time he saw her, she looked worse than before. He was not allowed to climb into the bed or cuddle into her side. He stood next to the bed, book in one hand, the other resting lightly on the scratchy sheets.

She looked at him and gave him a tired smile.

“It’s my handsome knight,” she murmured. She cupped his cheek with a cold palm. “Arthur,” she whispered, voice trembling and frail, “promise me that you will always believe in magic.”

He leaned into her touch. “I promise, momma.”

“That’s my good boy.”

The night Ygraine Penn died, Arthur sat outside the small room that had become her prison for the last several months. The plastic chair squeaked when he moved, his feet dangling far from the floor. He was scared and alone and tears streamed down his cheeks as he held onto his book.

“I believe in magic,” he whispered. “I believe in magic. I believe in magic. I believe in magic.”

He repeated it like a mantra, a prayer, but the next time he saw his father, he knew that magic had failed him.


	2. Prologue

  
**20 years later**   


Arthur Penn flipped open his cell phone as he stepped out of the lift, put it against his ear and walked to his corner office. His expensive shoes didn’t make much sound on the plush carpet as he turned at his receptionist’s desk to collect his mail. Head tipped to hold his phone against his shoulder, and listening to the awful music Leon had selected for callers on hold, he gave his secretary a little wave of acknowledgment. Elena blushed and sighed.

He ignored her reaction, hoping Leon would pick up quickly to put him out of his misery with both the horrid music and the attentions of his secretary. He seriously considered finding a new one and it wasn’t only because Elena always blushed and sighed whenever they interacted. Elena was also a nutter.

Arthur could acknowledge that Elena had a certain charm and she was beautiful on days that she brushed her hair. She was quite excellent at her job as long as she only handled clients over the phone. She was just…different. She religiously read her horoscope and fervently followed it to the letter. She believed in crystals and psychics and kept a good luck charm on her desk. It took all of Arthur’s self restraint not to roll his eyes at her when she told the other office girls, while pouring coffee in the break room, that she was going to meet her tall, dark and handsome prince in the next week because the newspaper had told her so.

That kind of hocus pocus voodoo crap didn’t have a place in Arthur’s world. It was impractical and Arthur was nothing if not practical. His father had made sure to drill that into him since he was a child and Arthur had learned the lesson very well.

“Leon,” Arthur said into the phone when his friend had finally picked up, “what do you have for me?”

Leon laughed. “Arthur, good to hear from you. How’s Gwen?”

“Beautiful and charming as always. Now, I know you didn’t call me to talk about my girlfriend. You’ve got something for me.”

“Always to the point you are,” Leon answered. “Yes, I just read,” he coughed, clearing his throat, “an amazing manuscript and I think it’s perfect for Penn Publishing.”

“You think everything is perfect for Penn Publishing.”

“Yes, because it’s the biggest and most proficient and the vice president happens to be my best friend.”

Arthur fell into his chair with a sigh and tapped his computer mouse. He had fifteen unread emails. Eight were from Morgana.

“Alright then, out with it.”

“It’s about dragons and magic and….”

“No,” Arthur said without preamble.

“No? Just like that? You don’t want to read it, at least?”

“Penn Publishing doesn’t do fantasy, Leon. It doesn’t sell.”

There was silence and Arthur could feel his friend’s disbelief from over the wire. “You have heard of a thing called Harry Potter, right?”

Arthur sighed. “Yes and it was a lucky.…”

“Lucky?” Leon’s voice took on a squeaky quality. “It’s a phenomenon, Arthur! Movies! Toys! Every little kid wants to be Harry Potter! There are even every flavoured beans! Although the ear wax one deserves the reputation.”

“Your point?” Arthur frowned, clicked on an email from Gwen that reminded him of their dinner plans that evening. He quickly typed out an adequate and affirmative reply.

“My point is that… oh never mind. I’m not having this conversation with you again.”

“Good. You’re learning.”

“On another note, you want to hit the pub with me and Gwaine sometime this weekend?” Leon asked.

“Only if Gwaine promises to behave. I’m not bailing him out of jail again.”

“I promise for Gwaine to be Gwaine and nothing more.”

Arthur smiled at that. “Sure, text me the details,” he confirmed. “And call me when you have something good, yeah?”

He clicked his phone shut before he could hear Leon’s resigned sigh.

Checking his emails, Arthur ignored the ones from Morgana until the last. The first was a normal report of the goings on in the Children’s Literature department. Then there was the inevitable angry email about how the funding to that department was being reconsidered by the Board. Then the even angrier email about how that if the funding was cut she was quitting in magnificent fashion. And finally the email that said she was on the way to his office unless he responded within fifteen minutes. Of course, it was sent twenty minutes ago.

Arthur scrambled for his desk phone and quickly dialled Elena’s extension.

“Yes, Mr. Penn.”

“Elena, if Morgana shows up I need you to tell her….”

His office door slammed open and Morgana strode in, all raven hair and tailored pinstripes. “Tell me what, Arthur?”

Arthur groaned inwardly and set the phone down on the cradle.

Morgana smirked as she softly shut the door behind her and sat down in the chair across from Arthur’s desk.

“You know,” Arthur said as he leaned back in his chair and smoothed down his tie, “you don’t have to be so dramatic.”

Her smirk morphed into a smile. “I wouldn’t have to be if you answered your emails,” she said sweetly with a bat of her eyelashes.

Arthur pulled a face. “You know I’ll do what I can, Morgana, about the budget, but it would be much more effective if it came from you.”

She stuck out her chin in defiance. “You know it would not. Uther hates my department almost as much as you do.”

“Then you’re lucky that he is head of the Board and I am not.”

Morgana barked out a laugh. “You of all people know that is not true.”

He did know, all too well. His father and Morgana had a spectacular falling out several years ago when Morgana learned that Uther was her father as well. They had barely spoken since and what was once a close relationship was now fraught with tension and tears. Morgana saw Uther twice a year, once at the annual company Christmas party and the other on Arthur’s birthday. Their inability to function as a family and much less as management of a world renown publishing agency gave the term ‘hostile work environment’ a whole new meaning.

“Arthur,” she whined, “children’s literature is a huge market and Penn Publishing is stupid for not tapping into that potential.”

“Have you been talking to Leon? You sound just like him,” Arthur said with a groan.

“And you sound like a cranky old man.”

Arthur frowned. It certainly wasn’t his fault that children’s lit contained many of those unworkable elements like fantasy and magic that Leon (and a small majority of the world) enjoyed and Arthur’s father absolutely hated.

“What are you up to tonight?” Morgana asked as she fiddled with the items on his desk in what Arthur was sure was an attempt to annoy him.

“I have dinner with Gwen.”

“Ah,” she answered. “Are you going to marry her yet?”

“That is none of your business.”

“She won’t wait around forever, you know,” she answered as she stood, dropping his fountain pen onto his computer keyboard.

“And neither will these expense reports, so if you will excuse me.”

Morgana made a rude hand gesture but softened it with a smile. “Good night, Arthur and thanks for the help.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered but returned her smile with one of his own.

Arthur spent the rest of his day distributing the manuscripts that had piled on his desk to his underlings for a first read and summary. He looked over some expense reports critically eyeing Morgana’s because she was not slipping another spa day by him again, stressed out and needing a massage or not.

It wasn’t until much later that Arthur finished and headed toward his date with Gwen.

He walked into the restaurant handing his coat to the doorman as he went, completely bypassing the glaring hordes waiting in line for entrance. The maître’d nodded at him as he passed and gave a low, “Mr. Penn.” Arthur acknowledged him briefly before heading to the table that Gwen already occupied.

The restaurant was beautiful, low lit with sparkling chandeliers, soft string music in the background, crisp linens and lush chairs. It was everything Arthur was used to and everything he was sure Gwen enjoyed. She was waiting for him at their table dressed in a cocktail dress with her hair pulled back, soft curls falling at her nape and around her neck. She had a half drunk flute of champagne at her left hand and she smiled timidly at him as he pulled out his chair.

“Hello, darling,” he said as he settled in. “Sorry I’m a bit late.”

“It was expected,” she responded, the smile dimming. “I hope you had a good day.”

Arthur waved at the waiter and pointed to his glass. “It was fine. Busy.”

“That’s…good.”

“How was yours?” he asked as he leaned back while the waiter poured his wine, setting his phone next to his silverware in case he received any important calls or emails.

“Fine.”

Arthur pulled out the menu and flipped through. “I don’t know why I even look at this anymore. We always end up ordering the same thing.”

“Yes,” she said. “Always the same thing.”

Her tone of voice was flat and Arthur looked up from his perusal.

She appeared anxious, her hands wringing in her napkin, her gaze darting around the room.

Arthur sighed.

“Gwen,” he said softly, as realization dawned, “just… get it over with quickly, please.”

“Oh, Arthur, I’m so sorry. I just… it’s just… like you said… always the same thing. I love you. I really do but we don’t have… we’re missing that spark… that something.”

“Magic,” Arthur said dryly.

“Yes. That’s it, exactly!” She took a long drink of her champagne, draining the glass, before setting it back down, hand trembling. “I never know what to say or do with you anymore. There’s no passion, no… magic.”

Arthur rubbed his eyes. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Lance being back in town, does it?”

Gwen wouldn’t meet his gaze and it was Arthur’s turn to take a long gulp of his drink.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry, too.”

She gathered her purse and set a few notes down to cover her tab.

“You don’t have to go now,” Arthur said, reaching out for her hand to still her movements.

“No, I think it’s best if I do.”

She stood and Arthur stood with her. “Tell Lance I say hi,” he said, sharp and cutting as she walked past.

At her stricken look, Arthur slumped. “Gwen, I’m sorry. That was… that was awful.”

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

She leaned up, kissed his cheek and she was gone.

Arthur didn’t stay much longer after that. He paid for his drink, took his jacket, and when he was outside on the pavement, waved his driver away. He steeled himself for the long walk back to his flat, hoping the cool air would help him untangle his thoughts about Gwen and Lance who had been his friend once, a long time ago. Along the way, he stopped at the store for a bottle of bourbon and the takeout place for some curry before shuffling home.

Once back at his flat, he kicked off his shoes, kept the lights low as he stumbled to his sofa. He ate the curry on the couch and poured his bourbon in a glass only because he would not stoop to drinking straight out of the bottle. He watched a bad documentary about medieval Europe on the telly before heading for his bedroom. Stripping out of his suit and tie and stepping on his socks because he wasn’t arsed enough to bend down, he flopped into his bed.

It wasn’t until he was snuggled under the covers that he looked over to his clock and spied the picture of him and Gwen that they had taken on their last holiday. She was in large sunglasses and a floppy hat smiling for the camera, her cheek pressed snuggly against his as he made a face. It was perfect. A snap shot in time of a happier them. He reached over and knocked it off the dresser.

It was in that movement that Arthur noticed that his home phone light was blinking. He wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise for as little as he actually used his home line. It was only there for emergencies and no one left messages on it. He picked it up and took a moment to remember the code to his voicemail. Fractionally cheered that he did remember, he listened.

It was an old man’s creaky voice.

“Hello. This message is for Arthur Penn. This is Gaius from The Grand Grimoire. I have found something in our collection that seems to belong to you. If you would kindly come pick it up, I would appreciate it. If I don’t hear from you within the next few weeks, I’ll assume you don’t want it and I will donate it. The address is….”

Arthur took down the address and considered it thoughtfully. It wasn’t like he missed whatever it was they supposedly had. He couldn’t remember a time where he thought he had lost something important. Not since his mother had died and they had moved from his childhood home. He had lost many of his toys though he had always suspected that his father had thrown them away.

He set the message down next to the phone and decided to think about it later when he didn’t feel so numb.

\--

Arthur’s next day at work was subdued and all together pretty horrid. It seemed the whole office knew already and he was sure it was because Gwen happened to be best friends with his half sister and Morgana couldn’t keep her mouth shut about anything. He had several emails from her, each more annoying than the last, until they were outright demanding that he speak to the Board right then. He ignored them all.

Elena reluctantly informed him that Uther had called Arthur into his office and Arthur steeled himself to meet his father.

“Father,” Arthur said as he walked in and closed the door.

Uther, an impressive man, gestured to a closest chair and didn’t look up from his paperwork while Arthur settled into the seat.

“I have been told that Morgana wants to argue the cuts to the children’s literature funding. Am I to expect that she has come to you to plead her case?”

He looked up then at Arthur who tried very hard not to fidget. His father’s face showed no hint of emotion, no sign of what he was thinking or feeling in that moment. It had always bothered Arthur that he never knew where he stood with his father, even as a child when all he had tried to do was make him proud. As an adult, Arthur learned to glean what little he could from Uther’s actions rather than his words.

“She has come to me, yes.”

“Then I feel you have a considerable job ahead of you if you are going to convince me and the other board members to think differently. I expect a presentation from you at the meeting.”

“Yes, sir,” Arthur answered.

Uther looked down at his paperwork in dismissal and Arthur stood.

“And Arthur,” Uther said as he signed some document then stamped it with his seal, “please try to keep your personal life out of the office. As much as I’m sure the end of your relationship was painful, it is not something that I need to hear when walking down the corridor.”

Arthur tugged at his tie. “Yes, father.”

Uther shifted in his chair. “If you need to leave early today, you have my permission.”

Arthur, used to Uther’s brand of parenting, nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Uther grunted and waved toward the door and Arthur left feeling unbalanced and weird.

He made it until what he thought was a respectful leaving time and attempted to slip past Elena.

“Mr. Penn,” her squeaky and ever perky voice stopped him before he made it to the lift. “Sorry, but you have a message. Someone from The Grand Grimoire called, said they had something that was yours.”

He took the note from her scarily manicured hands and put it in his pocket.

“Right. That was where I was heading just now.”

She looked confused, her brow wrinkled and her bow mouth downturned and it gave him the opening he needed to dive into the lift.

It wasn’t until he was in his car, on his way home before he even looked at the message. Gaius, it read in Elena’s bubble writing, had called again, the same fellow that had left the message the previous evening. Arthur half-thought about not responding, making this Gaius deal with it in a few weeks when Arthur hadn’t come to pick it up, whatever it was, but two messages in as many days had Arthur wondering if it were something valuable.

He couldn’t remember anything that he had owned and lost that would be of value but he was intrigued and it beat going back to his empty flat and thinking of Gwen and watching another bad documentary.

He gave his driver the address and within a few minutes they were pulling up in front of a shabby building with a tilting green awning. _The Grand Grimoire_ was painted in fading gold along the front. The paint on the door was chipping, the wood bowed and swollen and the windows looked dim and dusty.

Arthur peered in and saw stacks upon stacks of books lining the walls and crammed onto drooping shelves. He turned the door knob and it creaked as he pushed in.

Dust was swirling in the light of a few lamps and Arthur held back a sneeze. Cobwebs hung in strings from the ceiling along with feathers and charms. There was even something that looked like a bat but Arthur didn’t allow his gaze to settle on it too long in case it was.

“Hello,” he called. He bumped into a table that had some kind of animal skull on it and he recoiled a bit as it rattled. “Hello,” he called again as he approached the counter adorned with an ancient cash register and an unhealthy layer of grime.

“Yes, yes, coming.”

An old man appeared from the back and approached Arthur, an ancient looking tome under one arm, and glasses perched on the end of his nose. He had long white hair and his back was hunched but he smiled at Arthur all the same. He set down the large book on the counter and it kicked up a cloud of dust that made Arthur cough into his fist.

“May I help you?” the old man asked.

Arthur straightened, cleared his throat and unconsciously smoothed down his tie. “I’m Arthur Penn. I received a message you had something for me. Are you, Gaius?”

“Oh!” The old man adjusted his glasses. “Yes, I’m Gaius. I should’ve known it was you. You look like your mother.”

“You knew my mother?” Arthur asked doubtfully.

“Yes. I knew your mother and your father. Uther and I were friends of a sort, a long time ago.”

“Oh,” Arthur said. “Um… so… you had something…”

“Yes, yes,” the man answered. He shuffled to a box that was set on the side of the counter and looked through it. “I found it in the donation box. I assumed you would want it back.”

Gaius reached in and pulled out a battered old book and Arthur’s breath caught in his throat.

“There is a lovely inscription in the front right by your name.”

Gaius held out the book for Arthur to take but Arthur froze, memories from a lifetime ago running through him. It was his book. _His_ book. The book of knights and dragons and magic. He reached for it and tentatively ran his fingers over the cover. The water color pictures hadn’t faded at all and though there were a few new creases, it looked just the same as when he was a boy, tucked into his mother’s side as she brought to life the stories of princesses and castles and dragons.

Gaius seemed to sense his reluctance. He thrust it forward again.

“It’s just a book. It won’t bite.”

Arthur snapped his head up and glowered. He took it from Gaius’s hands. “I know it won’t bite.”

Reverently, he slowly opened the cover and on the first page, underneath the header of **This Book Belongs To:** was his name written in a child’s scrawl. Next to it, in his mother’s elegant hand, was an inscription.

  
**To my darling Arthur,**

 **May you always have the courage of a knight and always believe in Magic**

 **Love,**

 **Momma**

Arthur felt his throat close and his eyes begin to sting and it wasn’t just from the dust. The colours blurred beneath his tearing vision and he blinked several times, swallowed down the emotion threatening to rise.

“Is it yours?” Gaius prodded as he went back to the counter.

Arthur nodded quickly and wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Yes, yes it was mine. How much for it?”

Gaius waved him off. “It belongs to you. I’m just glad I could get it back to its original owner.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, his voice tight and raw. Turning away to leave the shop, Gauis’s voice stopped him.

“You’re welcome. Come back any time, Arthur.” Gaius gave him a small smile.

Arthur nodded in return and left the shop.

That night at his apartment, Arthur forgot about Gwen and Lance as he sat in his bed and turned the pages of his favourite book. Glass of bourbon in hand, he imagined he could still feel the warmth from his mother’s side, smell her perfume and hear her voice as she read him the stories he had loved. He didn’t remember much of the plot but he did remember the pictures and the feeling of wanting to be a brave knight so badly that he had practiced with his sword daily. It made him wonder what had happened to the plastic weapon and the variety of plush bears and animals that had been his knights.

It made his heart ache.

Arthur turned to the page that had the sorcerer’s tale and frowned at the picture of the magician who held stars and lightning in his palms.

“Magic is for babies,” he repeated from so long ago.

He remembered sitting outside his mother’s room, remembered the hot sadness that had welled when he knew that magic had failed him. He closed the book hard and set the glass of bourbon on the night stand. Sagging beneath the strain of emotional exhaustion, Arthur laid back on one of his pillows and fell asleep.

\--

And the brave knight awoke.

\--

The sun was pouring into his window and landing right on his face, warming the skin there and making him groan at the orange light that was now invading his eyelids. Arthur rolled over and grunted at the hard feeling beneath his back, wondering what the hell had gotten into his bed. Something else was tickling his cheek and he wondered if it was a hard body and soft hair but it didn’t explain the fact that his head felt like it was resting on a rock. He reached out, trying to find a pillow but only found a pile of leaves.

Fingers wrapping around the crunching foliage, Arthur was forced to open his eyes. He found that his head was indeed lying on a rock. It was grass that had been caressing his cheek and it was the ground that was hard against his side.

Arthur was outside, which was odd in of itself, but he wasn’t even outside in any place that he _knew_ of either. He was in a clearing on the edge of a forest. The grass beneath him was a fresh light green, the leaves in his hand a combination of brilliant gold and red hues. Alarmed, he sat up quickly, the sun high and beaming down on his face so bright he had to throw his hand up to shield his eyes.

“What the fuck?” he asked as he looked around.

He was definitely not in his flat and he was definitely not in the city.

Arthur looked around quickly, eyes fetching in the light and the shadows cast by the trees, only to find landscape as far as the eye could see. He swallowed down the panic that was quickly rising in his throat as he tried to gain his bearings. He lowered his hand, squinting in the sun, and pinched his arm _hard_.

Nothing happened.

“Okay, okay,” he said to himself, “this is just a very realistic dream.”

He stood, brushed off his suit trousers and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt. He wasn’t wearing shoes, the land soft and a little damp beneath his socks, and his tie was on backwards. Taking a step, Arthur hoped that the landscape would fizzle away and he would wake in his soft bed with a killer hangover.

The ground remained stubbornly warm and solid beneath his feet. He took another step, then another and another, until he was certain he would be staying within the dream for at least a little bit while his body recouped from its stressful few days.

Since it was a dream, he decided he would explore.

The thing was, as he investigated, he found that it all looked vaguely familiar, but he had spent a considerable amount of time in the countryside so he wrote it off to being some picturesque memory or a conglomeration of all the parks and estates he had visited over his lifetime. That happened in dreams; the subconscious dragging up various scenes or people and that knowledge was all Arthur needed to justify the situation.

He decided to follow the curve of the tree line, keep to the grass instead of trying to walk into the heavily covered forest floor and risk stepping on something that would hurt his feet. Arthur hadn’t gone very far but sweat was beginning to break out along his skin. It was uncharacteristically warm, the past few days in the city having been bitterly cold, and Arthur wondered if he had left his thermostat up in his flat or had burrowed too far under the blankets and the sensation was bleeding over into his dream world.

It wasn’t long into his trek that he spied someone in the distance. It looked like a boy, a mess of dark hair on his head wearing some kind of medieval costume. He was doing something with his hands that Arthur couldn’t make out though it did look like he was conducting an imaginary orchestra. Arthur shrugged. At least it was someone and maybe they could help him wake up or at least make his dream more interesting.

As he neared, he realized it wasn’t a boy but a man, a skinny, awkward man with a red neckerchief and a blue tunic and a bit of leather for a belt holding up a pair of worn breeches and he wasn’t conducting an orchestra but was directing plants to dance and jump into the basket at his feet. He was muttering something under his breath that sounded like an archaic language while his arms flailed gracelessly and sprigs of green queued in disorderly lines.

Arthur watched for a moment, stunned and mesmerized by the intricacy and detail of his dream state before he cleared his throat. The man suddenly turned, startled, eyes glowing gold before melting away into a bright blue. He let out a strangled sound and took a hasty step back, managing to trip over his basket and end up on his arse in the grass.

“Please don’t turn me in!” he cried, as he scrambled away, using his hands and feet to propel himself.

Arthur let out a snort. “Turn you in for what?”

The man stopped scrambling for a moment, looked at Arthur with narrowed, assessing eyes. “For what? Didn’t you see…” he trailed off, cocked his head to the side, considering. “For nothing,” he amended, slowly. “You didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

“No,” Arthur said drawing out the word, “I saw you conducting a bunch of weeds and twigs in a dance into your basket.”

He paled, if that were possible as pasty as he was, and Arthur crossed his arms and lifted an eyebrow.

“First,” he answered, “they’re herbs. For my master. And second, it… it wasn’t me.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” Arthur said. “Who was it then? That tree over there. What about that rock?”

The boy stuck out his chin and set his jaw. “You’re a prat.”

“And you’re an idiot.”

He warily stood, his eyes trained on Arthur, while he wiped his palms on his breeches.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun. Are you turning me in or not? Because I have chores to get to.”

“Turning you in for what?”

“For, you know,” he wiggled his fingers and dropped his voice, “the magic.”

“I don’t believe in magic,” Arthur said quickly, reciting his life’s mantra by rote, despite the display he had just witnessed. It was only his subconscious anyway. It was all Leon’s fault and Gwen’s and that book’s.

The boy sighed, his shoulders dropping in relief. “Then there is no reason for you to turn me in.” He gave Arthur a blinding smile and held out his hand. “I’m Merlin.”

Arthur took it, gave it a firm shake, noting the way Merlin’s long fingers curled over his own. “Arthur.”

“You’re not from around here, are you Arthur?” Merlin asked giving Arthur’s outfit a once over with a questioning glance. “Are you from the north? You look like you’re from the north.”

“No, not from the north. Not quite sure where I am actually,” Arthur answered, looking around once again and to his dismay the landscape remained unchanged. He frowned.

Merlin’s eyebrows lifted. “Really? You’re in King Uther’s kingdom.”

Arthur laughed at the thought of his father being a king. “Uther, huh?” He rolled his eyes. “Hilarious, subconscious. Truly hilarious.”

Merlin gave him a confused look. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Arthur answered. “I just… look… I know this sounds crazy but I fell asleep reading a book in my bed and woke up here. Do you think you could help me?”

“You mean to tell me that you fell asleep in your home and woke up in the forest?”

Arthur nodded. “Yes, that’s about it.”

“Sounds like bandits,” Merlin responded seriously. “It’s always bandits.”

Arthur sighed wearily. “It wasn’t bandits.”

“Maybe magic then.”

“It definitely wasn’t magic!” he snapped.

Merlin crossed his arms, defensive. “It’s not like _you_ know what happened. And just because you don’t believe in magic doesn’t mean it’s not real. Honestly.”

Arthur felt his face heating and his patience wearing thin with the strange fey boy. “Can you help me or not, Merlin?”

Merlin shrugged. “Sure, I can take you to the Great Dragon. He knows all about these sorts of things. He can tell you if it was magic or not.”

“The Great Dragon? Is that some sort of code name for a grand wizard?”

Merlin blinked. “No, it’s the name of a very big flying lizard that likes to speak in riddles. We’ll have to go through the forest though. It’s teeming with bandits.”

“You and bandits.”

Merlin’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “Do you have any boots or clothes?” he asked suddenly. “We’ll need to blend in if we are going to get through the forest unscathed and you stand out like a sore thumb.”

Arthur looked down at himself then back at Merlin, irritated that he was in nice slacks, dress shirt and tie with no shoes. He could only internally groan at the state of the soles of his socks and the impending grass stains and other damage his clothes would attain in this strange place. Then he remembered firmly that he was in a dream and he was going to wake up with a few wrinkles from sleeping and nothing more.

“No, why would I? I was asleep!”

“Those are your sleeping clothes?” Merlin asked scandalized. He reached out and touched Arthur’s tie, the smooth silk sliding through his fingers. “You are a very odd person, Arthur. Are you sure you’re not from the north?”

Arthur thought about making some remark about the kettle and the pot being black but thought it might be lost on Merlin and instead answered with something simple. “No, I’m not from the north.”

Merlin smiled then picked up a small satchel that he had close by and slipped it over his shoulder before hefting his basket.

“Come along then,” he said, jerking his head toward the forest. “It’s a long walk and I’d like to get home before supper.”

“Right,” Arthur answered and followed Merlin into the forest.

\--

So the brave knight followed the boy into the forest and together they began their journey to counsel with the dragon.

\--

Merlin had ridiculous ears. Arthur noticed as he tentatively walked behind Merlin who was fearlessly tromping through the undergrowth making a racket despite his warning about bandits. Merlin also had hair that was dark and tangled and curled around said ears and the nape of his neck. Merlin wore boots with so many buckles Arthur wondered how he was able to get them on and off. Merlin’s breeches had a hole in the knee and were tight around his thighs and arse and that was something that Arthur shouldn’t be admiring (despite it being his dream and if he wanted to ogle Merlin’s arse, he should be able to). Merlin also talked constantly.

“King Uther hates magic. He puts all magic users to death. So, thanks, you know, for not turning me in. I quite like my head where it is.”

“How far is this dragon?” Arthur asked as he stepped on yet another stick that stabbed the tender arch of his foot.

“Not too far. I’d say half a day or so walking. Though with the way you’re going it might take us a week!”

“I’m sorry but not all of us are wearing boots. It’s a dream anyway. It’s not supposed to hurt.”

Merlin looked over his shoulder. “A dream? If this is a dream, then why am I in it?”

“I have no idea.”

“You’re saying I’m a figment of your imagination then?”

“Well, I suppose you are.”

“Huh,” Merlin said, stepping over a fairly large branch. “And here I thought I was a real boy. That is bollocks for me, you know. I have been going through life thinking I had some kind of grand destiny and come to find out, I’m just a hallucination.”

“You’re mocking me.”

Merlin turned around and gave Arthur a brilliant smile that made him look kind of beautiful and cheeky all at once. “Yes, yes I am.”

“You’re saying that you’re real?” Arthur asked. “That this is all real?”

Merlin’s smiled dropped away at Arthur’s expression. “Well, yes.”

Arthur ran his hand over the bark of a nearby tree and gasped when he pulled it back and there was blood on his palm from a small scrape. He stared at the crimson drop as it slid down his fingers.

He couldn’t remember ever bleeding in a dream. He couldn’t remember ever _hurting_ in a dream. He couldn’t ever remember a dream that was so real, almost corporeal, non-dream like, and so detailed.

Arthur looked up at Merlin, knowing he had gone pale and his eyes were glazed. He sucked in a quick breath then let it out slowly. His knees wobbled.

“Oh.”

Merlin was at his side in an instant, hand on his arm, guiding him to a log. “You look like you’re going to faint. Here, sit down for a minute. That great know-it-all lizard can wait.”

Arthur plopped onto the log and Merlin settled beside him, his gangly knees bent almost to his chest. He handed Arthur a water skin from his satchel. “Here, drink some water.”

Arthur closed his eyes as the cool water hit his lips and slid down his parched throat. It made him feel marginally better but it still didn’t change the fact that he had somehow woken up in a world that was not his own. His hands shook as he handed Merlin back the skin.

“Do you want some food? I have some bread.” Merlin rummaged around in his pack and pulled out a piece of crusty bread. “Sorry, it’s all I have.”

Arthur waved it away as his stomach churned from the thought of eating.

“No, it’s alright. I’m alright or going mad.” He let out a chuckle. “I should’ve known. You aren’t the kind of guy I normally dream up.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You’re far too skinny.” Arthur reached up and tugged on Merlin’s ear. “And odd looking.”

Merlin bit back a smile and gave Arthur a feeble glare. “I’m pretty sure you just insulted me.”

“And a little bit thick.”

Merlin offered Arthur the water again. “You’re delirious.”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” Merlin said with a nudge of his shoulder and an encouraging smile. “We’ll get to the Great Dragon. He’ll know what to do and hopefully he’ll tell us.”

“Us?”

“Well,” Merlin said with a shrug. “It’s not like I have much else to do.”

“What happened to those chores?”

Merlin grinned, mischievous. “They can wait. It’s not every day someone from another world shows up and needs my help. Besides, you didn’t turn me in for my ... ” Merlin made a gesture with his hands that Arthur supposed meant magic, “so you can’t be too horrid.”

Arthur smiled. “I think I was just insulted.”

Merlin laughed and stood. He grabbed Arthur’s upper arm and hauled him to his feet. “Come on, maybe we can find you some suitable clothing while we’re on this quest.”

Arthur picked at his shirt, pulled the fabric away from his skin. “I’ll have you know that where I come from these are the top of fashion.”

Merlin wrinkled his nose. “You come from a peculiar place, Arthur.”

Before Arthur could retort, Merlin turned and started to pick his way through the brush.

Arthur noticed that Merlin had slowed his gait and tried to find a more even course. They followed a small trail for a while that Merlin explained was a deer path and it was much easier on Arthur’s socked feet. Finally, they made it to a clearing and Merlin gestured to a soft patch of clover.

“We should rest for a while,” he said, dropping his basket of herbs and his satchel. He brought the water skin to his lips and took a long drink and Arthur stared at the line of his throat. Merlin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed the skin off to Arthur.

Arthur took a drink and handed it back.

“We’ll cross a stream soon,” Merlin said. “We’ll fill it up again there.”

Arthur stepped into the clearing and looked around. There was an old circle of stones in the middle that had a blackened center. It looked like a fire pit to Arthur from the little knowledge he had of camping. He toed at one of the stones there before walking around the meadow for a few minutes.

Arthur suddenly realized he knew nothing of camping. He didn’t know how to light a fire with a flint. He didn’t know how to skin a rabbit much less hunt one. And he was going to have to learn. Wasn’t he? If he was really in some backward alternate universe? If he was stuck as an anachronism in the weird little world where magic was real and there were dragons and bandits.

Arthur felt the panic constrict his throat. He felt sweat bead on his lip as his anxiety skyrocketed.

He was going to be _stuck_ there with a half-witted sorcerer as his companion. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and realized he needed more and suddenly he was gasping, pulling at his tie.

“It’ll be alright,” a calm voice told him. “We’ll figure it out. Just take a minute and calm down.”

“Calm down?” Arthur shrieked, eyes snapping open, jerking at his tie a little harder but only succeeding in make the knot tighter. “Calm down? I’m…I’m… _lost_.”

“You’re not,” Merlin soothed. “I know exactly where we are.”

“No, you idiot! This place…” he gasped, trying to suck in needed air, “this is not my home.”

Merlin was suddenly in front of him and gently removing Arthur’s hands from his tie. His thin fingers pulled at the knot and loosened it to where it felt less constricting around Arthur’s neck. Loathe as Arthur was to admit it, Merlin’s presence was comforting and he was able to slow his breathing. He clenched his sweaty palms into his slacks.

“That’s better, yeah?” Merlin said with a smile before moving away.

Arthur pulled in an even breath. “Yeah, that’s good. Thanks.”

Merlin shrugged, sat in the clover and opened his satchel taking out the crusty bread. He broke it in half and offered some to Arthur.

“We might be able to find something else along the way,” he said, “but you should go ahead and eat this.”

Arthur had managed to calm himself down enough to resume normal functioning. He turned up his nose. “I’m not eating that.”

Merlin looked down at the bread and brushed off a piece of clinging grass. He offered it again. “Sorry, must’ve been in my pack.”

“No, really, Merlin. I’m not that hungry.”

“Oh,” Merlin said looking at the lump of bread. “Well, it’s not cheese or stew or apples or anything. Not really fit for anyone but a servant but it’s all I have and I’m willing to share.”

Arthur winced, feeling the sharp sting of his privilege. “I…I didn’t know.”

Merlin shrugged, hand still outstretched. Arthur plucked the bread from Merlin’s palm.

“Thank you,” he said as sincerely as possible.

He took a bite and wrinkled his nose at the taste. It was tough and stale and scratched the roof of his mouth. He swallowed it down anyway because he was somewhat hungry and he was keenly aware of Merlin’s gaze on him.

“That wasn’t terrible,” Arthur said with a smile.

Merlin’s answering grin was small but happy.

“You should sit, you know,” Merlin said, gesturing to the patch of clover. “Your feet can’t feel anything but dreadful.”

Arthur made another circle around the clearing. “I’m just restless. It’s not every day you get transported to another world.”

“Yes, I can see how that would be unsettling.”

“Thank you for your understanding, Merlin.”

Arthur walked a few more steps in silence around the quiet meadow when he caught something in his periphery. It was a flash of dark green through the trees and when he turned his head to catch it, it was gone. It was so quick he was sure he had imagined it until he saw it again and dramatically spun on his heel.

Merlin looked up from where he was looking through his basket.

“What’s wrong, Arthur?”

Arthur looked around anxiously and caught another glimpse amongst the trees and heard the distant sound of laughter.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

“I didn’t see anything. Are you okay, Arthur? Could you have hit your head when you were brought here? That would explain some things…”

Laughter rang out in the clearing and Merlin straightened. Arthur gave him an I-told-you-so look.

“Okay, I _heard_ that,” Merlin said quickly getting to his feet and grabbing his things. “We should move.”

The sound grew louder, high-pitched and eerie, and much closer. It was accompanied by the sound of booted feet crashing through the undergrowth.

“Bandits!” Merlin hissed.

\--

And the brave knight and the young magician faced the bandits with courage and valor.

\--

Merlin grabbed Arthur’s arm and they took off running out of the clearing through the trees. The branches and twigs scratched at Arthur’s face and his chest, ripped his nice shirt, and his feet ached and stung. They didn’t get far before the laughter was in front of them and Merlin skidded to a halt before turning sharply to the left, his grip on Arthur’s arm never wavering.

There were sounds echoing all around them, ahead of them, and on the right side, and the laughter coming up from behind. Merlin stopped.

“We’re being corralled.”

Arthur pulled his arm from Merlin’s grasp. “They’re not on our left,” he said, turning quickly.

“Arthur, wait!” Merlin cried after him, right on his heels.

They made it two steps before an ominous cracking sound echoed around them and a giant woven net sprung up under their feet. They were airborne in seconds, smashed together, limbs tangled, and hanging ten feet in the air. Merlin’s face was squashed against Arthur’s chest, Arthur’s leg contorted around Merlin’s hip, his arms draped over Merlin’s shoulders. The grating laughter increased until it sounded maniacal and the bandits materialized out of the trees.

Arthur craned his neck, Merlin’s hair tickling his nose and his chin, but he managed to peer out from the net and see the ring of about ten bandits circling them below. They were dressed in browns and greens, perfect camouflage in the deep forest, all armed with bows or swords, staring up at the slowly spinning net, heavy with himself and Merlin. He felt like a chicken strung up in front of a pack of wolves.

“What do we have here?” a woman’s voice drifted up to him. “It looks like two wayward travelers.”

Arthur knew that voice and when he spotted its owner, stepping into the ring of men, with the obvious confidence of a leader, he sucked in a breath.

“Morgana?”

She looked up at him, green eyes bright, long black hair pulled back from her face in a severe braid. The sun glinted off her chainmail bodice and the sword at her side distracting Arthur from the tight cut of her pants and the odd tunic she wore that gave him a view straight down her cleavage. A boy was standing next to her, looking up at them with a smile on his lips, blue eyes focused and intent.

“How do you know that name?” she demanded.

“It’s me. It’s Arthur.”

She stepped closer, her gaze calculating. “I don’t know an Arthur,” she answered coldly. “Especially not one that would find himself captured in a tree.”

Arthur flinched. “You…you don’t know me?” he asked, plaintive.

“Should I?”

Arthur’s heart sunk. For all the sniping he and Morgana had done over the years, he did love her and counted on her at times. She was his sister, his friend, and it hurt to see this stranger wearing her face, her familiar features turned up in a sneer as she eyed him. It drove home further that this world was surely not his own because the father he knew was no king and his sister was certainly not a bandit. He had never been homesick before, maybe once or twice as a child but never as an adult, even when sent away to schools or holidays away from his family, but he now knew how it felt; a lonely ache in the center of his chest for a world that seemed a million miles away at that moment.

For his part, Merlin squirmed, rubbing against Arthur in impolite ways, muttering under his breath about impulsive dimensional travelers before he was able to manage some space between them.

“But you do know a Merlin!” he called down.

Morgana’s eyes widened. “Merlin?” she yelled. “Is that you?”

“Hello, Morgana. Mordred,” he responded. “Maybe we can talk on the ground, yeah?”

Her eyes narrowed, again. “Why would I want to talk to a traitor to our cause?”

“Oi!” Merlin yelled back. He shifted some more and Arthur had to close his eyes and not breathe for the way Merlin writhed against his body. “I am not a traitor!”

“You serve Uther,” she shot back.

“I serve the court physician. Not Uther.”

“The court physician serves Uther! You are guilty by the association. How can you live under a tyrant who would cut off your head if he knew the true extent of your power?”

“Morgana, I think this conversation would be better served if _we were on the ground_!”

She crossed her arms.

Mordred smiled. “Get yourself down, Emrys.”

“I’ve told you not to call me that, Mordred.”

Arthur shot Merlin a confused look. “Emrys,” he mouthed.

Merlin gave him a dark one in return. “Don’t call me that,” he bit out. “And hold on.”

“To what?”

“To me.”

“That’s not really difficult since I’m a bit mashed against you.”

Merlin blushed, pink staining the line of his cheeks. “Just hold on,” he instructed.

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s shoulders a little tighter and felt one of Merlin’s hands fist into the fabric of his shirt. Merlin took a deep breath and said something low and ancient and rhythmic. His eyes flashed gold and a red light shot from his spread fingertips, slicing through the thick weave of the net. Arthur clenched his eyes shut, dreading the inevitable fall, the feeling of his stomach dropping out of his feet, but after a few moments, he opened his eyes again because he had yet to crash into the ground. They _were_ falling, just very slowly.

Merlin’s eyes were still golden, hot and brilliant as the sun, and his grip on Arthur was tight as they floated softly toward the ground.

Arthur was a little bit amazed despite firmly not believing in magic.

His feet hit the cushion of the forest floor and Merlin’s eyes shimmered, went back to their normal blue.

“That was…” Arthur started but before he could complete his sentiment, he was grabbed from behind.

He was jerked away from Merlin, his arms wrenched painfully behind his back as two of the bandits crowded him on either side. Arthur thought about struggling but one look at a gleaming dagger drawn from its sheath and placed near the hollow of his throat drove any thought of heroics from his mind.

Merlin was treated in a similar fashion though Arthur noticed they were much gentler with the sorcerer, probably because they were scared or in awe though Morgana and the little creepy Mordred looked unimpressed.

Morgana approached Arthur, steps measured but light, until she stood in front of him, her green eyes traveling over his frame, her lips pulled in a sneer.

“And what are you supposed to be?” she asked.

“He’s from the north,” Merlin said quickly, pulling his arms away from the men that held him.

Morgana walked around him, plucked at his tie and allowed the fabric to snake through her fingers. “I’ve been to the north and you are not from there.”

“I’m taking him to the dragon, Morgana. There’s nothing insidious about that.”

She smirked. “That great leathery cryptic beast? What do you want from him?”

“He just wants to go back home. That’s all.”

Arthur kept his lips shut, pressed into a thin line.

“That’s all, then. The price for traveling through our forest is ten gold pieces. I don’t suppose you have that?”

Arthur looked over to Merlin who grimaced.

“No?” she asked, glancing between them. “Then you will have to earn it. Bring them with us.”

Arthur’s arms were let go and he stumbled forward, shooting a glare to the bandits that had held him. Merlin walked calmly next to him but he kept close to Arthur and Arthur didn’t know if it was because Merlin was scared or worried for him.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered to Arthur. He gave Arthur a discreet grin and knocked into his shoulder.

The contact was a comfort.


	3. Part 2

\--

Now captives of the ferocious bandits and their evil leader, the brave knight and his magical companion were at their mercy.

\--

They were marched through the forest, menacing looking men on all sides as they followed Morgana. Arthur thought it was very surreal and he felt like he was in an old Robin Hood film where Morgana was the Princess of Thieves and he was surrounded by her less-than-merry men. He knew better because his feet throbbed and his shirt was now sticky with sweat.

He felt lucky that it wasn’t very far until Morgana reached a stone wall. It was tall but old, stones broken and cracked in the structure. Vines and foliage covered most of it in green and red curtains that danced in the slight breeze. There was a solid wooden door, rough hewn, with no lock.

Morgana stopped in front of it, whispered something, and knocked. They waited a few moments before the door creaked open on rusted hinges. Arthur and Merlin were manhandled inside.

Arthur didn’t know what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t what he was seeing. It was an entire camp of people, men, women, and children. There were tents and lean-to structures sprawled within the safety of the wall. Cooking fires were lit and the smell wafted toward the returning party and Arthur could hear Merlin’s belly rumble. There were clothes drying out on lines, children playing games in the dirt, women and men working together.

It was a village.

The group of men dispersed and Morgana turned to eye both Merlin and Arthur.

“This is my home. These are all magical refugees from Uther’s kingdom.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know….”

“You are to stay in the quarters I assign you tonight. You have shown no desire to escape even though you could have.” She looked at Merlin hard. He failed at looking innocent. “If you are found outside of your quarters, your accommodations will become less than hospitable. Then tomorrow, you will help me earn your fee for crossing our forest. Understood?”

Merlin nodded.

“Good, follow me then.”

She led them to a small hut in the center of the compound. It was a squat, round building with four walls and a thatched roof. Its door was a curtain. It had no windows and no fireplace but it did have a small narrow bed.

Before leaving Morgana eyed Arthur once more, green eyes traveling over his frame and he shivered underneath her gaze, wrapped his arms around himself and cursed his formerly white shirt.

“I’ll find you some more suitable clothes.”

Once she was gone, Merlin walked around the small hut. He whistled appreciatively.

“This is nice.” He plopped onto the bed, kicking up a small cloud of dirt as he did so. “Comfy bed too.”

Arthur frowned. “This is a pit. What the hell have you gotten us into Merlin?”

“It has four walls and a bed!” Merlin exclaimed. “It’s hardly a pit. And _I_ didn’t get us into anything. You were the one that,” Merlin waved his hands, “was transported from some kind of alternate universe. I was just trying to help you.”

“Thanks for all the _help_. We are captured by some kind of band of outlaws headed by a woman that looks like my sister.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Technically, you’re the one who is captured.” He laid back on the bed, arms behind his head, legs crossed at the ankles. He shifted and sank down into the mattress, eyes fluttering closed.

“Oh, and you’re not.”

Merlin lazily cracked one eye open. “Magic,” he answered.

“I don’t believe in magic,” Arthur shot back.

“Yes, you’ve said that already.”

Arthur crossed his arms and looked around the room. “And I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

As the evening deepened and Merlin napped, his soft snores the only sound in the otherwise silence, Arthur sat on the packed earthen floor and wondered how the hell he had gotten there in the first place. One moment his life had been perfect, well, except for the whole Gwen thing, and the Morgana thing, and possibly even the Leon thing, but other than that, his life had been perfect and now, he was stuck in a _hut_ , hungry and tired and _on the floor_.

Arthur pulled his knees to his chest, leaned against the hard wall of the hut and laid his head on his knees feeling sullen and pitiful. He wearily lifted his head when the cloth across the door was pushed open and a timid village girl entered followed by a sturdy looking man. She carried a tray with two bowls of something delicious smelling and a half a loaf of grainy bread and some clothes draped over her arms. Her escort carried a pair of boots and a water skin.

“Hello,” Arthur said with a smile.

She flushed, clearing her throat. “This is for Emrys and his companion.”

Merlin snorted in his sleep and turned onto his side, pulling his knees to his chest and folding his hands under his head looking every bit a guileless idiot than some mystical being.

“He’s asleep but I’ll take it.”

She set the bowls on the floor and took the clothes from the man behind her, handing Arthur a pair of breeches, a shirt, and the pair of boots.

“Thank you,” Arthur said.

She ducked her head and scurried out the door while the large man scowled and followed her.

Arthur set the clothes aside and dove for the food. It was a thick stew, hot and filling and Arthur burned his tongue and had to drink deeply from the water skin to quell the heat in his mouth. It didn’t stop him from gobbling down the rest though and sopping up the broth with the bread. It was only after his bowl was empty and his stomach full that he even looked at the clothes.

There was a rough red shirt that was long in the waist and had laces around the neck. There was a pair of sturdy brown trousers and boots that had buckles. Arthur regarded them critically then shrugged.

The breeches were tight and the tunic was long and looked ridiculous. As Arthur was trying to figure out the ties on his shirt, he realized Merlin had rolled over on his side, blue eyes open and wide awake.

“You look different,” he said. “Better.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. “Well, when in Rome…”

“What’s Rome? Is that some kind a province where you’re from?”

Arthur sighed. “Nevermind. They brought you stew and bread.”

Merlin sat up quickly and spied the bowl. It had grown cold but Merlin tucked in almost as ravenously as Arthur did.

“This is good,” Merlin said around a mouthful. He tore off a piece from the hunk of bread and shoved it in, swallowing hard. “If I had known there was a hidden village for magic users, I would’ve come here years ago.”

“Really?”

Merlin shook his head and grinned. “No. I wouldn’t leave my master.”

Arthur picked a thread on his tunic. “Are you a slave?”

“What?” Merlin sputtered. “No, I’m not a slave. I’m a servant. I serve my uncle who happens to be the court physician.” Merlin set his empty bowl on the floor. “He’ll be worried about me when I don’t come home.”

“I’m sorry.”

Merlin shrugged. “It’ll be alright.”

Arthur fiddled with the new boots that he had yet to try to put on because his feet still ached and he wasn’t quite sure how to work the buckles. Merlin noticed.

“I am the assistant to the physician. Do you want me to…help you? You know, I’m sure you have some scrapes on your feet.”

“Are you going to use magic?”

Merlin laughed. “No. Healing magic is something I’m not very good with, but I do have some salve in my bag.”

They switched places, Arthur sitting on the bed and Merlin kneeling on the floor, gaze attentive. As Arthur peeled off his socks, wincing at their ruined state and the bruises and cuts that littered the pads of his feet, Merlin rummaged through his pack and pulled out a small jar. He pulled out the cork and Arthur smelled jasmine masking the stronger scent of some bitter herbs.

“Here,” Merlin offered.

Arthur took the jar, sniffed it skeptically, and then slid his index finger in. It was cool and thick and he pulled out a large dollop that he smeared onto the bottom of his left foot. It immediately tingled and soothed and Arthur sighed as he rubbed it in.

“This is brilliant.”

Merlin beamed.

After the salve had been applied to both of Arthur’s feet, Merlin took Arthur’s dress shirt and ripped it into strips for bandages. Arthur didn’t protest though he felt like telling Merlin that his shirt was worth more than Merlin would ever see in a lifetime. He tried not to blush as Merlin tenderly bandaged his feet. It was such an odd and intimate gesture between two almost strangers but Merlin didn’t seem to mind and Arthur knew that as an assistant to this world’s equivalent of a doctor, Merlin must’ve seen far worse. When the task was completed, Merlin sat back on his heels and surveyed his work.

“Not bad,” Merlin said with a grin.

“Not bad at all,” Arthur agreed. “Thank you.”

Merlin shrugged again and looked away, embarrassed by the praise. He handed Arthur his boots.

Arthur slid his feet in and bit back another sigh. The boots were worth the kidnapping, in Arthur’s opinion, because they were lined with fur and soft on the inside and well-made. It only took him a few minutes to figure out the buckles as well.

“Oh,” he said as he made a noise embarrassingly close to a moan, “do these feel good.”

“You are very odd, Arthur,” Merlin pointed out with a quirk of his lips. “And don’t worry. I don’t think you’re in much danger here.”

“I don’t know. Morgana has always been a bit scary.”

“Yes, because delicious stew to eat and a nice place to sleep are the very pinnacle of torture,” Merlin replied sarcastically.

“You don’t know her like I do.”

“She doesn’t know you either.”

“Will you shut up?”

“Sorry,” Merlin said contrite. “Go on then. Tell me about Morgana in your world.”

Arthur shifted on the uncomfortable floor and peered out a slit in the fabric covering the door, watching the sky darken incrementally.

“She’s my half sister.”

“Oh,” Merlin said.

“Yeah. She’s brash and beautiful. She likes to tease me, brutally, but she can also be pleasant and kind. She’s fiercely loyal which makes it so hard to see her so openly defiant to the king.”

Merlin tilted his head. “Why is that? She can still be loyal to you and not the king.”

Arthur gulped. “Merlin, in my world, Uther is our father.”

“Oh,” Merlin said again.

Arthur merely shrugged. “How do you know, Morgana?”

It was Merlin’s turn to look uncomfortable. “She used to live in the castle until she left. She sounds much like your sister just more…sinister and morally dubious.”

“Why did she feel like she had to leave?” Arthur asked.

Merlin looked at Arthur like he was mentally deficient. “Because Uther hates magic. I _told_ you that.”

“Yes, well I still thought I was in a dream at that point.”

Merlin smiled. “Right. Well, Uther hates magic and Morgana felt threatened.”

Arthur shifted on the bed and winced when he realize the mattress wasn’t much better than the floor. “Why does Uther hate magic?” he asked.

He never quite understood why Uther was dismissive of magic and fantasy in his own world. It was something he never could grasp about his parents, how different they were. One of the few things he knew about his mother was that she enjoyed fairytales and magic while Uther was always grounded in reality.

Merlin looked pained. “Who knows what motivates anyone really,” he said. Arthur rolled his eyes and Merlin continued. “The rumor is that it was because of the Queen.”

Arthur leaned forward, heart in his throat. “The Queen? Is her name Ygraine? Is she still alive?”

Merlin shook his head. “She died a long time ago. She became very sick and Uther tried everything.”

Arthur deflated. “Of course,” he said bitterly.

“Everyone says that Queen Ygraine was beautiful and kind and she loved magic. It was alive in the court. Uther turned his back on magic when it couldn’t save her.”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond but snapped it shut, unable to process Merlin’s words.

They didn’t get a chance to speak further before the curtain was pushed aside and Morgana stepped in. “It’s time,” she said.

\--

The brave knight and the sorcerer were led before the bandits’ leader and threatened with their lives if they refused to help the thieves on their next raid.

\--

Sitting around the fire, Arthur was squeezed next to Merlin in the large gathering, the flickering flames casting lights and shadows across Merlin’s face and the cut of his cheekbones. They were together on a log, knees touching and Arthur felt the hot contact even through the layer of his breeches. He blamed it on the heat of the flames.

There were men on all sides, drinking something that smelled strongly of alcohol and swapping stories of bravery and misfortune. They were happy and carefree, a stark contrast to Merlin’s suddenly clandestine attitude. A swarthy man knocked roughly into Arthur’s shoulder and he fell heavily into the warmth of Merlin’s side, knocking their temples together.

“Sorry,” Arthur murmured, rubbing the sore spot.

Merlin didn’t say anything, lips together in a firm line, but he did cast an annoyed glance at Arthur’s shoulder. He looked nervous and Arthur restrained himself from patting Merlin’s shoulder or arm or leg.

The ruckus immediately diminished to a hush when Morgana stepped into the circle.

“One of our scouts just informed me that a caravan of nobles and goods from an outlying post are making their way down the main road to Uther’s kingdom.”

There was a low murmur.

“Tomorrow morning that caravan, laden with the trappings of nobility and enough food to feed our small village for a month, will be passing right by our forest. We will wait until their path is the closest and then we will surprise them and take back what should be ours!”

There was a loud cheer but it couldn’t drown out the overwhelming sense of déjà vu that surged in Arthur’s ears and washed over his frame. He swore that for a brief second, for one slight moment in time, Morgana’s voice sounded like…his mother’s.

Several men slapped Arthur and Merlin on the back. Arthur bowed forward from the weight, disconcerted and feeling strange in his own skin. Merlin merely scowled.

“Get some rest,” she commanded. “For tomorrow, we strike a blow to the heart of Uther!”

The camp cheered again and the motley group dispersed, some staggering off to tents or huts with their women while others quietly moved to their watch posts. Merlin stayed still on his log and Arthur stayed as well, unsure whether they should return to their own quarters, and still reeling from this moment of sense memory.

“Merlin,” Morgana purred. “You and Arthur will play a pivotal role tomorrow.”

“I figured. What do you want, Morgana?” Merlin asked, voice sharp.

She raised an eyebrow. “Nothing. I just want you to stop the procession.”

“You want us to be bait?”

Her smile was slow and almost feral. “You shouldn’t worry, Merlin. If everything goes right, you’ll be released to go and talk to the giant lizard. All you have to do is stop them.”

“I won’t use magic.”

Morgana stiffened “What?”

Merlin drew himself up. “I won’t use magic, Morgana.”

Her features twisted in a thunderous expression. “Then you better think of something else! Take them!”

She turned on her heel and her cape unfurled behind her in a flurry of movement.

Arthur was grabbed by his arms and lifted to his feet as was Merlin and together they were tossed back into the hut.

“What the hell was that?” Arthur yelled once they were back into the safety of the four walls.

“We should get some rest,” Merlin muttered.

“No, tell me. Why are you baiting her Merlin?”

Merlin turned his back on Arthur and gestured to the bed. “You can have it. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Merlin…” Arthur ground out. “This is my life you’re playing with.”

Merlin turned sharply. “No, this is _my_ life and I will not be Morgana’s puppet! I don’t support Uther but I sure as hell will not support the killing of innocents on any side.”

“Killing?” Arthur asked, throat tight.

“Oh what, Arthur. Did you think Morgana is going to ask nicely for the nobles to hand over their riches? Do you think those stupid lords and courtiers will just give them up without a fight? This is going to end in bloodshed in one way or another and I will not have my magic be responsible.”

Something in Merlin’s words struck Arthur with the weight of familiarity. It wasn’t the same feeling he had at the fire, more like when looking around the landscape, only this time, more pronounced, blunt and heavy. He swore he had heard something like that before if not something strikingly similar.

The combination of events made his heart pound and made him question his own reality. It made him panicked.

He swallowed hard and physically shook the feeling away. He held up his hands, placating. “Alright, Merlin,” he forced around the knot in his throat. “We’ll find another way.”

Merlin deflated, arms hanging at his sides, head bowed. “This is a bad situation, Arthur. I’m sorry you’re here.”

“It only looks bad now, Merlin. Maybe, in the morning, it’ll look better.”

Merlin sighed.

\--

The brave knight and the sorcerer were unable to escape in the night despite their efforts and when the morning broke it seemed their fate was sealed.

\--

Arthur had slept fitfully on the lumpy mattress. He was hoping that when he woke up in the morning, he’d be back in his own bed, in his own flat, with his nice Egyptian cotton sheets instead of the horribly scratchy things Merlin called blankets. It didn’t happen though and when he finally gave up on gaining any rest, he cracked his eyes open. It didn’t surprise him to see Merlin already awake and standing by the door, staring out in to the pre-dawn light.

Merlin looked tired, drawn. His arms were crossed over his body, posture hunched, as the rising sun cast him in an odd light.

“Hey,” Arthur said in his croaky morning voice.

Merlin turned and grinned. “You snore.”

“I do no such thing.” Arthur protested.

“They brought us some apples for breakfast.”

Arthur rolled out of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. He picked up an apple and bit into it, the juice rolling down his chin. He wiped his face with his sleeve.

“Think of anything?”

Merlin shook his head. “I am hoping for a miracle.”

“Do those things happen around here often?”

Merlin shrugged. “About as often as strange men showing up from other worlds.”

“Ah, daily then.”

Merlin chuckled. “I have a whole collection of your type in my cupboard at home.”

“That’s not as comforting as you may think, Merlin. It sounds actually rather creepy.”

Merlin gave Arthur a small smile. “Eat up. We have a long day ahead of us.”

It was mid-morning by the time Merlin and Arthur were collected by Morgana and her motley crew of brigands and bandits. They were all dressed in dark greens and browns to camouflage themselves within the trees. Morgana had a bow in her hand and a quiver on her back and a dagger strapped to her belt. Her followers were similarly armed and Arthur felt irrationally vulnerable without a sword of his own. At least Merlin had his magic but Arthur felt bereft and his palms itched to hold a heavy blade, to wrap his fingers around a gilded hilt. That was all ridiculous since he hadn’t ever held a sword except for the plastic one he had as a child and that one time Lance had taken him fencing in university.

Yet, he still couldn’t shake the feeling and it blended in with the sense of déjà vu he had about the whole situation. It only intensified as they walked in the forest and stopped at the point where the road curved close to the line of trees.

The road was a beaten path with wide ruts from where wagons had traveled. There was a low stone wall that ran parallel to the road for a little bit that seemed to serve no purpose other than to look pretty as the sun glinted off of it. It looked familiar. It all sounded familiar: Morgana’s plan of stopping the procession along the road and robbing it, the fact that there actually was a caravan of nobles and goods heading into the city. It all sounded so…premeditated.

Then it hit him as he was crouched in the brush next to Merlin, hiding behind a large tree, and waiting for the slow moving wagons and horses to come into view. He _had_ seen this all before. It was a trap.

“Morgana,” Arthur hissed, leaves hitting him in the face, as he leaned toward her hiding place. “Morgana!”

She crawled over to him, green eyes bright in the midst of the shadows of the trees.

“Shut up, you idiot.”

“It’s a trap,” he said without preamble.

Morgana looked at him, eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a trap. I know it sounds crazy but it is. If you go down there, you will be captured and your people will die. “

“Is he always this dramatic?” Morgana asked Merlin.

Merlin was looking at him oddly. “You don’t know the half.”

“Will you two just listen to me?” Arthur whispered vehemently.

“We _are_ listening, Arthur,” Morgana said, shifting on her haunches, her quiver of arrows smacking Merlin in the face. “How do you _know_? For all I know you could be in league with these nobles and…”

“He’s not,” Merlin said.

“I’m not. I just…look it sounds crazy…but I read something like this in a book once when I was a child. The bandits go down there to attack the caravan and they realize that it isn’t nobles on those horses but knights in disguise and there aren’t any goods in those wagons just more soldiers.”

Merlin sighed, placating. “Arthur, just because you read something like this…”

“No, Merlin. I’m right. You just have to trust me.”

Merlin pursed his lips and looked over to Morgana. “Is there any way for your scouts to look closer?”

Morgana didn’t answer and gave them both a hard gaze. “If you’re wrong, you’re costing my people the means to live another season.”

Arthur stuck his chin out and glared defiantly back. “And if you’re wrong, your people have no chance.”

Morgana nodded in acknowledgment and respect before she crawled away to converse with her second in command, leaving Arthur leaning on a log next to Merlin.

Merlin was looking at him funnily again. “That was brave, Arthur.”

“How do you mean?” Arthur asked, flushing a little under the praise.

“If Morgana had been captured then we would have been free to make our way to the dragon. Instead, you might have saved her.”

Arthur shrugged. “It seemed the right thing to do.”

“You’re a mystery, Arthur.” Merlin shook his head.

Arthur’s response was cut off by a sharp whistle from the trees. The wagon was upon them now and Arthur tensed, waiting for Morgana’s decision. They didn’t wait long before an arrow came from the treetops and embedded itself in the dirt in front of the lead horse.

Horse and rider reared back and once the rider had the horse under control, he pulled a sword. He pushed back the hood of his cloak and the links of his chain mail could plainly be seen. He was a knight just as Arthur had predicted.

Arthur ignored the incredulous look Merlin gave him and instead focused his gaze on the happenings on the road.

There was shouting as more arrows rained down strategically missing those being fired upon but thunking hard into the dirt. The carriage doors opened and instead of courtiers inside there were soldiers.

Arthur watched as Morgana made a motion with her arm and the arrows stopped. She cast a contemplative glance to Arthur and though scowling made another motion and the bandits slunk back into the cover of the trees in a silent retreat.

“How’d you know?” Merlin asked on their walk back to the camp.

“I told you,” Arthur said smugly. “I read it in a book.”

“Huh,” Merlin said. “I thought that was some sad attempt at trying to rescue us.”

Arthur smiled and knocked into Merlin’s shoulder as they walked causing Merlin to stumble sideways.

“You should learn not to doubt me, Merlin. I’m brilliant, you know.”

“And humble too, I see.”

Arthur laughed and Merlin smiled in return, blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Shut up, Merlin.”

\--

That night, Arthur and Merlin were welcomed around the fire and shared a meal of venison with the inhabitants of the magic camp. Arthur was regaled with stories of previous hunts and when the children were sent off to bed, the conversation turned heavy and Arthur learned of the tyranny of King Uther.

“I left in the night,” Morgana told him, sitting next to Arthur while Merlin stood a few yards off, arms crossed, and watching with a guarded expression. “I had always had dreams that came true, visions of the future, but I had no idea it was magic until I broke a vase from across the room. I couldn’t stay there, living in fear.” She raised her voice. “Not like some people.”

Arthur watched as Merlin stiffened then walked off into the night.

“Why do you not like Merlin?”

Morgana looked into the fire, her pretty red mouth turned down. “He refuses to use his power against Uther. He could take over the entire kingdom if he wanted but he chooses to live as a peasant in Uther’s court. It’s degrading to our kind. He is the most powerful sorcerer in an age and he waits.”

Arthur stared at the path Merlin had taken in the dark.

“Why?” he asked.

Morgana shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“Do you hate your father?” Arthur asked.

Morgana snapped her head up. “How do you know he is my father?” she whispered harshly. She quickly looked around those at the fire but no one was paying them attention. “Who are you, Arthur? You travel with Emrys. You knew of the ambush and you know of my…secret.” She pulled a dagger from a hidden sheath on her leg and pointed it at Arthur. The firelight glinted off the blade and her eyes. “Are you a spy?”

“No,” Arthur answered quickly. “I’m just…lost. I guess.”

Morgana assessed him, then sighed when she deemed him no threat. Her hand went limp, and the point of the dagger trailed in the dirt. “No, I don’t hate him. I pity him. He doesn’t understand and I…I couldn’t make him see otherwise. Sometimes,” she continued, voice dropping so low that Arthur had to lean in to listen, “all I want is to go home.”

Arthur was struck at Morgana’s earnest tone. Was that how _his_ Morgana felt? Did she want to come home after the years of tension between her and Uther?

“I’m sorry.”

Morgana came back to herself then, straightened and wiped at her eyes. She slid the dagger back into the sheath at her side.

“Well, that was maudlin,” she said brusquely. She stood and brushed off her trousers. “You and Merlin can leave in the morning. Until then, you are our guests.”

Morgana strode off leaving Arthur to contemplate by the fire.

\--

The dawn came too quickly for Arthur and before he knew it, he was standing on the edge of Morgana’s compound with Merlin by his side. Morgana had given Merlin his pack filled with food and blankets and other necessities and Arthur wondered if it was some sort of peace offering between them. Merlin nodded in acknowledgment but he didn’t smile and neither did Morgana. The magic users kept the herbs and Merlin didn’t argue.

Morgana gave Arthur a smirk before presenting him with a sword. It was a simple one with a plain hilt but it was newly sharpened. When Arthur put the belt around his waist and felt the weight of the sword and scabbard at his hip, he felt another disconcerting wave of familiarity.

Merlin noticed and nudged Arthur’s ribs with his pointy elbow.

“You alright?”

Arthur nodded. “Fine, just ready to be moving.”

“Good because you have a long way to travel. We have learned that the Dragon has moved again. His location is near the Craggy Mountain,” Morgana said.

“The Craggy Mountain?” Merlin asked. “That’s Cenred’s kingdom.”

Morgana smiled. “All the more reason for Arthur to be armed. Go to the Lone Tower and once there, head east, to Oracle’s Rest. Go up the path to the Craggy Mountain and you’ll find the Dragon. Good luck in your quest, Emrys and Arthur.”

Merlin muttered under his breath about being called Emrys but thanked Morgana for the directions.

\--

The brave knight and his magic companion resumed their journey to find the Great Dragon.

  
\--

Merlin and Arthur emerged from the forest and began the trek across the rolling dale. The grass was high, brushing Arthur’s knees and even his hips in some places. The sun was slowly rising, painting the scene in bright greens and gold and causing sweat to prickle at the back of Arthur’s neck.

Merlin was in front of him again and Arthur watched as he hitched the pack he was carrying higher up on his shoulders. It was full with the things Morgana had given them, food, supplies, and blankets and as Arthur trailed behind, his hand occasionally caressed the hilt of the sword at his hip. The weight was comforting even if he really didn’t know how to use the thing. At least, he did know that the pointy end was supposed to be directed away from him.

They walked across fields of grass for what felt like forever and Arthur wondered if there was anything left like the landscape at home. It was beautiful; unblemished with picturesque rolling hills that seemed to touch the sky at the horizon framed by copses of trees and old low wooden fences. So it was easy for Arthur to pick out a blemish on the landscape.

There was a flag on a pole in the middle of a field. The fabric hung limp but Arthur could make out a crest with a black slithering serpent on a field of light green.

“What’s that?” he asked Merlin.

“It’s Cenred’s flag. It marks the border of his territory.”

“Is that important?”

“Yes,” Merlin said softly, his tone serious. He stopped just on the other side of the flag and opened his palm. A flame jumped to life, hovering just above his pale skin. It was unearthly and beautiful and it flickered in the breezeless air. “Magic is not outlawed in Cenred’s kingdom.”

Arthur watched as the flame turned into a small dragon that ran across Merlin’s palm then jumped into the air, using Merlin’s fingers as a spring board. It flew for a few seconds then dissipated into sparkles.

Merlin grinned at Arthur, bright for a moment, happy.

“Come on,” he said, turning, “the tower shouldn’t be too far off now.”

Arthur followed, feeling out of his depth and a little bit awed.

They walked for another hour, Arthur glad for the boots Morgana had given him and for the reapplication of Merlin’s salve before they left Morgana’s camp. They both had been fairly quiet, contemplative, but it was broken with Merlin’s excited whoop.

“Hey, Arthur,” Merlin said, pointing into the distance, “look! There’s the tower.”

It was an old stone tower, straight and tall, sturdily built. The soft purple spire touched the blue sky and mingled with the white puffy clouds. Ivy grew up the sides in green ropes that gave the tower the appearance of blending in with the landscape. It looked like a water-color painting.

“I wonder what’s in it,” Merlin said cocking his head to the side and smiling as he walked.

Arthur shrugged. “Probably nothing important.”

“Ah yes. I’m sure it’s just there to look pretty against the landscape,” Merlin said with a smirk.

“Are you always so contrary?” Arthur asked, picking his way through the knee-high grass. He was a little wary of stepping on something alive in all the green and he kept his gaze riveted to his feet.

Merlin didn’t seem bothered and trudged on. “Not usually. You seem to bring out this side in me.”

“That’s good to know.”

“So…this book you read, about the bandits, did it have a tower in it?” Merlin asked. “You knew soldiers were in the carts. It would make sense that you would know what was in the tower.”

“How does that make sense?” Arthur snapped. “I read something like the bandits in a book once but…” Arthur looked up again at the tower and stopped. It _did_ look eerily familiar. “Wait, I think…” he trailed off and racked his brain. There was a story about a maiden in a tower? Right? “There might be a woman.”

“Might be?” Merlin asked. He had stopped as well, his body turned toward Arthur but his gaze fixed off in the distance. “That doesn’t sound very confident.”

“I don’t remember much of the plot anymore,” Arthur answered sharply. “It has been a long time since I’ve read that particular book.”

“How long?”

“Since I was a boy.”

That seemed to appease Merlin for all of a moment. He turned on his heel and started walking again. “Well, if there is a woman in the tower, what is she doing up there?” he mused. “Is she a lost princess? Is she a witch?”

“What part of I don’t remember don’t you understand!” Arthur said, frustrated. “I never really liked that part of the book. It was all about romance and kissing and I rather liked the sword fights.”

“Ah, I bet you dreamed of being a knight too.”

Arthur sucked in his breath and unconsciously gripped the hilt of his sword, the cool metal biting into his palm. “How did you know that?”

Merlin shook his head. “I didn’t.” He looked over his shoulder again but kept plowing on through the grass. He gave Arthur a soft smile. “You look like a knight though, noble and…knightly.”

Arthur laughed. “And how does one look knightly?” he mocked.

Merlin’s smile turned contemplative, his eyes assessing, raking over Arthur’s frame before he turned back around, suddenly. “Never mind. Forget I said anything, you prat.”

“Aww, come on, Merlin. Tell me more about how I look knightly.” Arthur took a few long strides until he was beside Merlin and poked him in the side, teasingly. Merlin only grunted. “Come on, tell me.”

“No,” Merlin answered petulantly.

“Alright. Fine. What did _you_ dream of being?”

Arthur was expecting Merlin to say something utterly ridiculous like a cabbage merchant or a court jester. He didn’t expect Merlin to wilt and sigh.

“Normal,” he heard Merlin mutter.

They walked together in heavy silence and Arthur felt horribly that he had chased Merlin’s good mood away. Arthur nudged Merlin with his elbow.

“Honestly, Merlin, aren’t you a little worried about stepping on…”

Arthur was cut off by the sound of a crash. It was a cacophony of metal ringing against metal, fast and furious, and nearby.

“Do you hear that? It sounds like a battle!” Merlin said, perking up. He looked over his shoulder at Arthur and smiled blindingly. “Didn’t you say that sword fights were your favorite?”

He didn’t give Arthur a chance to respond before he darted gleefully off as if expecting Arthur to follow.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled trying not to trip. “Merlin, wait! You idiot!”

The slim figure crested a hill and disappeared over the other side.

Arthur blundered after him, sword and scabbard knocking into his leg as he cautiously ran. When he finally caught up, after honestly avoiding stepping on a nest of bunnies, he found Merlin standing at the base of the tower and watching a battle between two knights. Merlin was entranced, blue eyes wide, hands gripping the straps of his pack, as the two men beat at each other with their swords.

Arthur rolled his eyes and followed Merlin’s rapt gaze. It was indeed two men in battle. One was tall with large arms and broad shoulders and what he lacked in grace as he fought was certainly supplemented by his brute strength. The other was shorter with dark hair and was quick and fluid in his motions.

Arthur blinked. Once. Then twice.

“Lance?” he gasped, then followed it with a louder, and more incredulous “Percy?”

Percy looked up at the sound of his name, distracted, and it was all the opening Lance needed. He knocked his shoulder hard into Percy’s gut, knocking him backward and onto his arse. Lance then managed to knock Percy’s sword from his grasp. Breathing hard, sweat running in rivulets down his face, Lance leveled his sword point at Percy’s throat. The tip wavered with obvious exhaustion.

“Do you yield?” he gasped.

Percy lay back in the grass, propped up on his forearms, looking equally worn and sweaty. He had a smudge of dirt near his temple. He shot a glare at Arthur. “I would’ve beaten you if this fool hadn’t interrupted.”

“Fool or no,” Lance said. “Do you yield?”

Percy sighed, allowing his head to thump against the ground. “Yes.”

Lance shoved the point of his sword into the dirt then smiled and leaned down to give Percy a helping hand to his feet.

“It was a valiant effort,” Lance said, punching Percy in the arm.

The larger man smiled and ruffled Lance’s hair in mutual teasing and affection.

“You were fortunate we were interrupted,” he responded.

The pair turned and eyed Arthur and Merlin, gentle repartee melting away and being replaced by the hard look of warriors. Arthur watched as Lance’s stern gaze morphed into a smile when he spied Merlin.

“Merlin!” he said, enthusiastically.

He stepped forward and clasped Merlin tightly on the arm before pulling him into a hearty hug in greeting.

“Lancelot!” Merlin returned. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages. Not since Uther…” Merlin trailed off and cast a quick glance at Arthur.

“I’ve been well. How have you been?” Lance said, his fingers still tightly curled around Merlin’s bony shoulder. “You’re looking well.”

Arthur scowled at the familiarity.

“I am well,” Merlin responded. “What’s going on? Why were you dueling?”

“For the hand of the fair maid in yonder tower of course,” Lancelot supplied with a gesture to the tower next to them.

Percy stepped forward then, tall and menacing, and Arthur had to look up to meet his hard gaze. Percy was a full head taller than Arthur and when he took another step forward, frowning, Arthur took a step back. Percy poked Arthur in the chest with a meaty finger.

“You cost me a duel. Who are you?”

Arthur looked at his friend, his long time workout partner and trainer. “Percy, it’s me. Arthur!”

Percy looked at Arthur considering. “I don’t know an Arthur. And my name is Percival.”

Arthur deflated. He looked over Percival’s impressive shoulder at Lance. “I suppose you don’t know me either?”

Lance shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. Should I?”

Merlin gave Arthur a sympathetic glance. “He’s my friend, Arthur. He’s having a rough couple of days. Please excuse him.”

Percival crossed his arms and his biceps bulged. “I still have lost my chance to woo the maiden of the tower because of your interruption.”

Arthur appraised Percival. “What’s the problem? It’s not like you like girls anyway.”

“Arthur,” Merlin hissed, edging away from him and closer to Lancelot, obviously fearful, “do you have a death wish?”

Percival’s face coloured an embarrassed pink. He shifted his massive body uncomfortably and toed the ground.

“I…” he trailed off. “I yield to Lancelot. Good day.”

Percival left the group and mounted his horse, turning it sharply toward the dale and took off at a gallop.

Merlin stared at Arthur incredulously. “Why did you say that?”

Arthur shrugged. “The Percy I know prefers men.”

Merlin paled then blushed. Lancelot coughed awkwardly into his fist.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“You embarrassed him, you prat!”

Arthur looked off into the direction Percival had ridden. The Percy he knew would never be embarrassed by that. Would he? He was always so quiet and strong and generally pleasant to be around. They had never outright discussed that Percy occasionally watched the lads in the locker room but so did Arthur and it wasn’t like it was a horrible thing. They had just never discussed it. Was Percy embarrassed? Was he not out?

Arthur swallowed hard. “Oh,” was all he could muster.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “You really are an arse, Arthur.”

Arthur didn’t know how to reply.

“Right then,” Lancelot said, “I have won the right to woo the maiden and I’m going to go do that.”

Lancelot walked away. Merlin cast Arthur one last contemplative look before following. Arthur trailed behind, his thoughts bouncing around.

The tower loomed in front of them, much taller than Arthur had originally thought it was. The walls were sheer rock that went straight into the air with minimal handholds for anyone daring to climb. There was a single arched window with a pink curtain fluttering in the weak breeze. The sunlight glinted off the purple spire and hurt Arthur’s eyes.

Lancelot approached the tower, ran his fingers through his short, sweaty hair, and adjusted his tunic before he knelt on the ground underneath the single window. He spread his arms and cleared his throat.

“My lady of the Lone Tower! I have come to rescue you and win your lovely hand in marriage.”

A dainty hand pushed the curtain aside and the lady, a beautiful girl with dark skin and curly hair popped her head out of the window. She peered down at Lancelot.

“That’s lovely but no thank you.”

Then she disappeared back into the tower.

Arthur laughed. Of course it would be Gwen!

Lancelot frowned and tried again.

“My lady, I have come from afar and vanquished my foe just to see your beautiful face.”

“You’ve seen it then,” her voice floated from the window. “You may return from whence you came.”

“But,” Lancelot sputtered. “I thought.”

“I’m _not_ interested!”

Lancelot looked even more confused. Merlin drummed his fingertips against his lips in thought, brow furrowed.

“Maybe,” he offered, “you should come back tomorrow.”

“I won’t be interested then either!”

Arthur laughed again, doubling over and wrapping his arms around his middle. Merlin gave him a dark look.

“You are ruining their epic romance,” Merlin accused, hands flailing.

“I’ve been blamed for that before, Merlin. It’s nothing new.”

Arthur stepped forward, ran his hand through his hair, and craned his neck to look up to Gwen’s window.

“Guinevere!” he called in that exasperated and authoritative tone he used to use with her when she was his. It always worked to bring her out of one of her irritatingly charming rambles or to make her fluster and blush.

It worked and she stuck her head out of the window. Her hair was falling across her forehead in a wild mess and she ineffectually pushed it out of her eyes.

“Yes? Do I know you?”

Arthur shifted. “No,” he answered firmly, “but I know you.”

He ignored Merlin’s adorable wide-eyed expression and Lancelot’s continued earnest and confused face. He boldly continued albeit awkwardly.

“I know that you don’t need to be rescued. You have always been able to take care of yourself and for whatever reason you’ve chosen to be in that tower.”

She leaned a little further out of the window and placed her chin in her hand, elbow propped on the stone ledge.

“Alright,” she said. “Since you know so much about me, what’s my favourite colour?”

“Yellow.”

“Favourite flower?”

“Trick question. You don’t really like flowers because all the pretty ones make you sneeze. You do like pumpkins in the fall though and tulips in the spring if you had to chose.”

Gwen straightened and squinted down at the three of them standing around the tower.

“Who are you?”

“Arthur.”

“And how do you know those things?”

“You told them to me once,” he answered, his voice choking on the last word.

He swallowed a few times to stop the rising lump in his throat but it didn’t work and he felt his eyes start to sting with the hot burn of tears. He realized, as he turned his head away from Gwen, focusing on his feet, that he had known all those things once, and had cared about them, had cared about how to make Gwen happy. He had lost that some time ago and should’ve realized it far sooner than the painful break-up dinner especially since he had sent her two dozen roses on her birthday. She must’ve sneezed for days.

He felt Merlin’s hand on his arm, a comforting squeeze and a touch, and he knew he must have looked like someone had broken his heart. It didn’t help that Merlin had a sincere expression of concern splayed across his features and had his fingers tangled in the fabric of Arthur’s tunic. His heart clenched and he wasn’t quite sure why.

“I’m sorry to have upset you,” he heard Gwen’s voice coming from above. “I just, I don’t want to be wooed to become someone’s wife before I get to do anything. I want to travel. I want to be independent. I want to love the person I am when I’m with the someone I choose to love.”

Lancelot stood dramatically. “I’ll take you,” he offered quickly. “I’ll take you to see the world.”

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “And you would ask nothing in return?”

Lancelot shook his head. “No, my lady. Nothing but your presence. I realize now that I am unworthy of a woman such as you but it does not mean that I would not work to become worthy. I will take you where you want to go with nothing but hope in my heart that someday I could earn your love.”

Arthur turned his head sharply at Lancelot’s declaration. “Is that why you left?” he asked, harshly, righteous anger welling inside him. Lance had _left_ Gwen once and she had fallen into the relationship with Arthur and while it hadn’t been all bad, not even close, just _wrong_ in ways, she shouldn’t have had to settle because of Lance’s stupid decision.

Lancelot looked confused again. “I don’t understand.”

“Because you weren’t _worthy_? That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard you arrogant, pompous…”

“Arthur!” Merlin interrupted, his grip on Arthur’s arm becoming tighter. “These aren’t the people you know,” he whispered.

Arthur’s tirade stalled and he snapped his mouth shut and took a shuddering breath. “Sorry,” he offered meekly.

Merlin let go of his arm but remained a solid presence at his side as Gwen and Lance stared at each other.

“What’s your name then?” Gwen asked after a long moment.

“Lancelot,” he said with a smile that lit up his face.

“Alright,” she acquiesced. “We’ll travel together. I want to go to the sea first.”

“When would you like to leave milady?”

“First thing tomorrow,” she answered decisively. “Until then, we should plan and gather supplies. Arthur?”

Startled, he looked up to find Gwen smiling down on him.

“You’ve been so wonderful. Would you like to help?”

He pushed “of course” past his tight throat.

Merlin beamed at him.

\--

The brave knight, the sorcerer, the fair maiden and the knight errant planned for the maiden’s journey.  
\--

Merlin, Arthur and Lancelot made a camp at the base of the stone after they had assisted Guinevere and Lancelot to make their travel plans. Guinevere had come down from the tower through a hidden door and cooked the group a delicious stew over a fire that Merlin had lit with his magic. Arthur was surprised when Guinevere and Lancelot hadn’t even blinked at the display.

Guinevere gave Arthur an extra helping of the stew and Merlin noticed with a frown.

When Guinevere had returned to her tower an hour ago, Lancelot had crawled into his bedroll, his soft even breaths mixing with the sounds of crickets and owls and the crackling of the dying fire.

Merlin sat across from Arthur staring into the fire.

“How do you know Guinevere?” Merlin asked softly. “In your,” he waved his hand, “world.”

Arthur sighed and threw the stick he was playing with into the flames.

“She was my…girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, looking a mixture of confused and resigned. “She’s lovely.”

“She is,” Arthur confirmed. “She’ll be lovelier with Lancelot. She left me, Merlin, a few days before I came here.”

Arthur thought it would hurt seeing Gwen and Lance together, but he was surprised when it didn’t. In fact, it felt good, freeing, to see Gwen’s head bent over the map with Lance’s, her cheeks blushing faintly, and Arthur hoped that Lance could make her happier than he ever did. It was eye-opening.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Arthur. You’ll…you’ll find someone else, a great man like you.” Merlin cleared his throat.

Arthur half-smiled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Merlin.”

They lapsed into silence until Merlin cautiously broke it again.

“Did you know me in your other life?”

Arthur frowned. “Actually, no.”

Merlin’s hopeful expression dropped. “Oh.”

“You must be one of a kind.”

“Right.”

“I can honestly say that I’ve never met anyone like you, Merlin,” Arthur said, settling back against the wall of the tower. He gave Merlin a grin. “Magic and all.”

Merlin tentatively returned the smile Arthur sent him over the embers and Arthur couldn’t tell if the red in his cheeks was from the sporadic flames or not.

Arthur wondered what Merlin would be like in his world. He would look the same and Arthur would be able to recognize him in a crowd. Would he still be awkward and beautiful? Would he still be selfless and brave?

In this world, Morgana wanted to go home. Percy was in the closet. Gwen felt trapped by relationships and just wanted to be herself. Lancelot felt unworthy of love. Was it the same in his world? Was this some sort of warped reflection of his own life?

“Arthur?” Merlin asked from across the fire. “You alright? You look a million miles away.”

“I was just thinking of home,” he answered.

“Don’t worry.” Merlin said, crawling toward his own bedroll. “We’ll get to the dragon tomorrow and find you a way back.” Merlin snuggled into his thin blanket. “You should get some rest.”

Arthur yawned and nodded. “Night, Merlin.”

A soft snore was his response.

\--

Lancelot woke before anyone else and Arthur wasn’t too far behind. Merlin was rolled in his blanket, only the top of his wild hair peeking out. He was muttering something in his sleep that sounded like a mix of English and magic, like something out of Harry Potter. Arthur was half expecting something to levitate or catch on fire but nothing did and Merlin snorted and shifted fitfully before settling back down into a quiet sleep.

Arthur helped Lancelot light another fire using the banked coals from the previous evening and once they had started warming some water they awkwardly stared at each other.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you,” Lancelot said as he poked at the fledgling flames. “Without your help, Guinevere wouldn’t have even talked to me. It really should be you who travels with her.”

Arthur chuckled. “No, Lancelot. It really should not be.”

Lancelot ducked his head and blushed.

“So…” Arthur started, staring into the flames, “how do you know Merlin?”

Lancelot smiled fondly as he cast a glance over to Merlin’s bedroll. “I went to Uther’s kingdom to be a knight. I couldn’t join because I am not of noble birth but Merlin tried to help me.”

“What happened?” Arthur asked.

Lancelot tossed a twig into the fire. “I ended up banished.”

“That sounds like Merlin.”

“No,” Lancelot said, shaking his head. “No. It wasn’t Merlin’s fault. He tried to right a wrong that was not his to correct. He wanted to do what he thought was best but it didn’t work.”

“He appears to have a habit of helping people and it not going to the way it is supposed to.”

“You need to take care of him, Arthur. Merlin is powerful but he is…” Lancelot trailed off, looking for an appropriate word.

“Bumbling,” Arthur offered. “Naïve. An idiot.”

“Selfless,” Lancelot corrected with a frown.

“Oh, right. I’ll keep an eye on him. Don’t worry.”

Lancelot looked skeptical. He gestured to the sword on the ground near Merlin’s pack. “Do you know how to use that thing?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “No, actually.”

“Want a lesson?”

Thirty minutes later found Arthur sweaty and bruised but smiling as Lancelot put him through the paces of learning to sword fight. Sweat was sliding down his temples and his back and his arm ached from the weight of the sword but it was all secondary to the thrill of learning something new and playing as a real knight. For the first time in a long time, Arthur was having fun.

“Take that, you brigand,” Lancelot yelled teasingly as he thrust his sword point toward Arthur. “You should surrender while you have a chance.”

Arthur blocked it cleanly. “Never, you pompous git!” Arthur wasn’t very good with taunting but Lancelot laughed all the same.

Arthur took a swing at Lancelot’s side that was shrugged off easily. “That was good but don’t swing from your shoulder too much.” Lancelot said, serious for a moment. “Try it from your wrist a bit.”

Arthur adjusted and found the motion much easier. “Take that you lowlife! The fair maiden is mine!”

“You will have to fight harder than that,” Lancelot bellowed, “to win her hand!”

“Ha! She is my destiny,” Arthur said with a proudly straight face as he parried a blow.

Lancelot swallowed his chuckle and attacked. “Never!”

Arthur moved his arm to block but suddenly he couldn’t move. His muscles locked in mid-motion and time slowed and it felt like he was moving through molasses. Lancelot looked the same, astonished and stuck.

“Stop this instant!” he heard Merlin yell.

Arthur turned his head enough to see Merlin standing near them, hand outstretched, eyes glowing golden. His hair was a ruffled mess, his tunic rumpled, a red crease standing out on his pale face from where he had burrowed in the blanket. He looked like an angry kitten but Arthur could feel the magic wrapped around him, restraining and powerful, and for a moment he was afraid.

“What is the meaning of this? I thought,” he said, golden eyes pinning Arthur with an accusatory stare, “that this was all worked out last night.”

Arthur tried to open his mouth to speak and found he couldn’t. He made a helpless noise in his throat and Merlin seemed to understand. Arthur felt his jaw muscles loosen.

“We aren’t fighting, Merlin,” he managed. “Lance is teaching me how to use the sword.”

Merlin’s gaze flickered to Lancelot who was able to nod his head in agreement.

“Oh,” Merlin said, and Arthur could detect a hint of sheepishness in his tone. He dropped his hand, his eyes going back to their natural blue and both Arthur and Lancelot suddenly fell like sacks of potatoes to the ground. “Sorry. I thought you were trying to hurt each other.”

“Really Merlin,” Arthur said, rubbing his backside where it had collided with the hard ground, “if I was fighting Lancelot for real I’d have a dozen holes in me right now.”

“Oh, right,” Merlin said again, blush staining his cheeks. “I just didn’t want you hurt. Either of you hurt, I mean. I’m going to go make breakfast.” Merlin turned and scurried away.

“Actually,” Lancelot piped up, “you were doing quite well, Arthur. You picked up those movements very quickly. Are you sure you haven’t handled a sword before?”

Arthur looked down at the one in his hand. The hilt looked much like the one he had as a child but of course that had been plastic and this was obviously steel. “No, I haven’t.”

“You’re a natural, then,” Lancelot said with a smile clapping him hard on the arm.

Arthur furrowed his brow. “Thanks.”

-

They parted ways after breakfast. Merlin and Arthur were heading east, further into Cenred’s kingdom, toward Oracle’s Rest. Guinevere and Lancelot decided to head north toward the sea.

Merlin and Lancelot hugged in manly fashion, slapping each other on the back. Lancelot and Arthur clasped forearms. Guinevere gave Merlin a hug and told him to be careful. She turned her attention to Arthur and he tried not to flinch when she moved toward him. Instead of a hug though, she stretched up on her toes and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Arthur. I don’t know who you are but thank you.”

Arthur felt his cheeks heat at the praise and felt Merlin’s assessing gaze on him again. He squirmed.

“I did nothing.”

She patted his arm and gave him a knowing smile before turning away. Lancelot swung up into the saddle. He reached down for Gwen and pulled her up easily, situating her in front of him in the saddle.

“They’ll be alright,” Merlin said into the silence as he and Arthur stood side by side, watching the horse gallop off over the landscape.

“They’ll be brilliant,” Arthur corrected.


	4. Part 3

\--

The brave knight and the sorcerer travelled further into the unfamiliar kingdom on their quest to find the dragon’s resting place.

  
\--

  
Merlin and Arthur walked for what felt like forever before they stopped for a quick rest. It was only to eat and drink, and before Arthur was ready, Merlin was pulling him to his feet and they were walking again.

Merlin was strangely quiet as they made their way to Oracle’s Rest. Arthur was following him again and felt lighter than he had since he had arrived in Merlin’s strange world. Of course, the more Arthur was in this world, the less strange it became. All of his friends were there and everything seemed so vaguely familiar. The bandits, the tower, the sword fight for the maiden’s hand. If Arthur didn’t know better he’d think he was somehow in his book, but that would be ridiculous.

Much like Merlin. Merlin was ridiculous. Ridiculously kind and kind of brilliant.

Arthur allowed himself a brief ogle of Merlin’s arse while he remembered the feeling of Merlin’s magic wrapped around him, powerful, strange, but comforting in a way.

Magic. The concept was so foreign to him as an adult, but he thought he might actually believe in it again.

Merlin stopped abruptly in front of him and Arthur, lost in thought, almost ran right into his back. He just managed to pull up short and look up in time to see why Merlin had halted.

They had come to a small bridge that crossed over a deep ravine, and standing in front of it was a woman. She had reddish-brown hair tied up in an intricate fashion and she was wearing an ornate white dress. Her hands were clasped in front of her and she was smiling, wide and eager. She looked like Uther’s second wife, Arthur’s stepmother, Catrina, but something was off.

“Hello travellers,” she said, spreading her heavily jeweled hands and giving them a slight bow. “Welcome to my humble piece of the forest.”

“Hello,” Merlin said. “I thought this was Cenred’s kingdom.”

She laughed, high and tinkling. “No, young man. This part of the land is mine.” She eyed them both critically. “You look weary. You should stop and rest here for a while. ”

Merlin took a step back until he was flush along Arthur’s front. “No, we’ll just go around. Sorry for disturbing you.”

“Oh, don’t go, lovelies.” She took a small step forward, her movements odd, jerky.

Merlin stiffened and tried to take another step away but ended up only pushing himself further into Arthur. Arthur had to grip Merlin’s waist to keep them both from stumbling and likely falling.

“Don’t be frightened, little one,” she said with a smile that was a little colder, harder than it was before. “I won’t hurt you and your companion.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively. “I only want to offer you a little water and food. There’s nothing amiss about being hospitable to young people like you.”

“We have plenty, thanks,” Arthur said over Merlin’s shoulder, not liking the way the woman was looking at Merlin like he was something tasty. “We really should be on our way. The dragon is waiting for us, you know. So are our friends.”

Merlin nodded enthusiastically.

“The dragon,” her voice all but purred. “I’m sure he has wonderful treasure.”

Arthur held in a laugh. He had always wondered about Catrina’s motives when she was married to his father and this Catrina’s lust for treasure was damning. He should’ve known.

Merlin slightly turned his head, his lips barely brushing against Arthur’s jaw. His voice was low, tinged with fear. “There’s something wrong. She’s magic but it’s _sour_.”

Arthur tightened his grip in understanding.

“What was that, lovely?” she asked. “I hope you’re not saying nasty things about me.”

She stepped forward again, close enough to be able to lunge and grab them if she wanted and that’s when Arthur _smelled_ her. He clasped his hand over his mouth and nose, trying not to gag and a quick glance told him Merlin was using his kerchief to try and block the overwhelming stench.

She smelled of rot and bog and every other unpleasant thing Arthur could dream of and when she smiled, Arthur could now see the slime in it. It took everything for Arthur not to retch.

Catrina sniffed the air. “You are magic, aren’t you? You’d make a fine addition to my collection, boy.”

“Stay back,” Merlin answered, raising his hand. “I know what you are.”

“Well, then, young sorcerer, no need for pretenses.” Her body wilted and grew outward, her perfect posture turning into a hunch as her size tripled. Her flawless white skin became a sickly gray-green and sprouted knobs and pustules. Tusks grew from her mouth and claws from her hands and suddenly it wasn’t Catrina his ex-stepmother but a _troll_. A troll, like the one that Arthur had read about as a child, that smelled ghastly, and looked disgusting and was going to try and take Merlin.

The knight in his book had defeated the troll on his own and Arthur racked his brain as to how. He just _couldn’t_ remember, but he had Merlin and Merlin had magic and Arthur was probably going to be a spectator in this confrontation anyway.

Catrina advanced on them, lumbering and stilted, but powerful and Arthur had no doubt she could be quick if she wanted to be.

“Your magic is no match for troll magic, boy,” she said in a gruff and grating voice. “You better just accept that you’re mine now and maybe, I’ll be merciful and kill your companion quickly instead of pulling his limbs off one by one.”

Merlin and Arthur shuffled back, Arthur keeping one hand firmly on Merlin’s hip and the other on the hilt of his sword. Merlin’s hand was still raised and his eyes started to glow gold as he whispered something low and archaic. Arthur held onto him, could feel the magic running through Merlin’s frame as the words built and the air shimmered and crackled before them. The wind picked up quickly and Arthur watched as a transparent shield formed between them and the troll, first thin and fragile but with each passing second and each word tumbling from Merlin’s full lips, it grew stronger, more substantial, like a thick sheet of glass.

Merlin was panting, sweating, pouring his strength into his magic and Arthur shifted him in his grip, let go of his sword, to hold onto Merlin with both hands, his fists twisted into the fabric of Merlin’s tunic, offering his strength as support. Arthur didn’t know how long he held him like that, moments or an eternity; time didn’t seem to matter, but suddenly, Merlin gasped, and his eyes flashed back to their brilliant blue. He leaned back against Arthur, his body trembling from the use of his power.

“That should hold her for a little while,” Merlin said breathless, “but we should run anyway.”

“Alright,” Arthur answered, and he hauled Merlin close to his side. “Let’s go then. I’ve got you.”

Merlin nodded, leaning heavily into Arthur.

The troll laughed, shrill and taunting, and with a snarl walked right through the barrier, the magic shattering around her like it didn’t even exist.

Merlin gasped. He lurched away from Arthur’s grip, lifted his hand, directed his spread fingers but before he could speak, before his eyes could light like the sun, she bellowed and shoved her own hands forward. Troll magic, pungent and thick, surged from her claws, catching Merlin in the chest.

Arthur heard his own shout ring in his ears as Merlin flew backwards. Merlin slammed into a nearby tree and he crumpled like a ragdoll, bent and unmoving.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled.

The troll cackled and rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Stupid boy! Powerful as he is, he will make a wonderful piece in my collection.”

She turned her beady black eyes to Arthur who gripped the hilt of his sword and stood frozen, panicked.

“What are you going to do with that sword?” she barked. “You are no knight.”

Arthur gulped but pulled his sword from its scabbard, leveling it at the troll. He recalled what Lancelot had taught him that morning, widened his stance, balanced his weight and readied himself to fight her.

The troll approached him slowly, mouth twisted into a semblance of a sneer. “You don’t know how to defeat me.”

And then Arthur _remembered_. He remembered sitting in the bed with his mother and her gentle voice as she read about how the knight vanquished the troll. It was his favorite part and he must have heard it at least a hundred times.

\--

The brave knight faced down the troll knowing well to avoid its claws and that the only way to defeat it was to behead it.

  
\--

Arthur’s heart beat loud in his ears and his mouth went dry. Sweat beaded along his forehead and the sword felt heavy in his hand, the hilt slick with the sweat of fear. He looked over at Merlin, still in a heap at the base of the tree but he was breathing and his eyes fluttered like he was on the verge of coming around.

“What do you think you are going to do with that?” Catrina said with a snarl, gesturing to the sword. “Stick me like a pig? It won’t work, you know. I’m magic just like your little friend there.”

Arthur gritted his teeth as she looked at Merlin again with her greedy black eyes and he didn’t answer. Lancelot had taught him that a good offense began with a good defense and Arthur was going to wait for her to make the first move. He didn’t have to wait long as she lumbered toward him, claws bared, her movements less clumsy and more aggressive, feral.

The troll lunged toward him with a growl and Arthur feinted to the right, his blade barely blocking the length of her razor-like claws. Before he could recover fully and get his feet back in the right stance, she sent a blast of magic that sent him diving to the ground. It crashed into a tree behind him, splitting the trunk and splintering the branches with an awful cracking sound. Breathing heavily, Arthur managed to roll into a crouch, avoid the falling fragments and foliage, and gather his feet beneath him before she attacked again.

It was another blast of magic and again he managed to dodge it but this time it passed close, singeing the hair on his arm despite feeling cold and wet like a swamp. It was nothing like how Merlin’s magic felt wrapped around him, warm and reassuring.

“Quit squirming and accept your fate!” Catrina cried out in frustration.

Arthur was not about to reveal that his avoidance technique was more out of desperation and less about any kind of tactics. He was lucky he was able to get to his feet after throwing himself to the ground twice and he was only slightly singed instead of in a similar heap to Merlin.

Arthur looked over to where Merlin lay and found Merlin to be awake but his blue eyes were cloudy, pain-filled, and unfocused.

Arthur didn’t have much time to look before Catrina was charging him, head on, full speed, every bit of her weight behind her, propelling her forward with the strength and momentum of a bull. He held his ground, knees shaking but hands steady, until the very last second, he shifted, spun and Catrina blew past him.

He found himself with his sword raised facing her back as she stood frozen and cursing a storm.

Arthur glanced at Merlin and saw his eyes glowing and knew Catrina was trapped as he and Lancelot had been in the web of Merlin’s magic.

“Now, Arthur,” Merlin gasped.

Arthur took a breath and without thinking about how the troll had looked like his stepmother earlier and only thinking about Merlin’s safety and his own, he swung the blade with all his strength at the creature’s neck.

He didn’t watch the aftermath. Arthur wiped off his sword in the grass before sheathing it. He ran to Merlin’s side, dropped to his knees by his friend.

“Merlin,” he breathed, hands fluttering over Merlin’s body.

“I’m fine, Arthur. I’m,” he moved and let out a groan, “not fine. Okay. Not fine.”

“Don’t move.”

“No, we need to get out of here. Find another place to rest.”

“But you’re…”

“I’m just tired,” Merlin answered. “Okay, hurt, a little, but mostly tired.”

“Okay, okay. Let me help you.”

Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin’s waist and lifted him to a sitting position and then to standing. Merlin leaned on him heavily, his arm a dead weight across Arthur’s shoulder, his feet uncoordinated and clumsy, eyes heavy.

Once Arthur had their supplies and Merlin coordinated and they were about to stumble their way toward the dragon and away from the troll’s lair and her stench, Arthur looked back toward the body. He wasn’t surprised to see it gone. After all, that was what happened in his book.

-

Arthur dragged Merlin and all their things as far as he could until he found a good spot for them to spend the night. Merlin tripped more than usual, gripped Arthur’s shoulder with what little strength he had, and apologized more than was necessary.

It wasn’t with much grace that Arthur deposited Merlin and their things in a clearing just off the path to Oracle’s Rest. He almost dropped Merlin twice while trying to lay out his bedroll. Merlin half-crawled into it with a sigh. “I just need to rest, Arthur. I’ll be fine,” he muttered before falling instantly into a dead sleep.

Arthur sat beside him, sword placed in easy reach of one hand while the other lay on Merlin’s chest so Arthur could feel Merlin’s deep even breaths and the steady beat of his heart beneath his palm.

-

Arthur was going to kill that bird if it kept singing. He knew exactly which one it was too; that stupid mockingbird that perched on the ledge outside of his flat window and always began to sing at dawn. He was going to kill it if it didn’t shut the hell up sometime soon. Alright, killing was an exaggeration, but throwing a shoe at the window to scare it off was well within his purview.

Arthur opened one eye to look at his clock for the time and to find something to throw but he found only the pink of the dawning sky and a canvas of green foliage above him.

He sucked in a breath. Right. He was still in Oz.

He didn’t remember falling asleep but he did remember their encounter with the troll and the fact that Merlin had slept the rest of that morning and afternoon away. Arthur had sat next to him, stood guard with his weapon by his side while Merlin occasionally snored but otherwise was dead to the world. He had kept his hand hovering near Merlin’s chest to feel his heartbeat or near his wrist to check for his pulse and it had everything to do with the fact that the image of Merlin being blasted into that tree kept replaying in his mind.

After Arthur had eaten a few things from their pack and twilight had deepened, he had found himself fighting sleep. Sleep obviously had won.

That explained why he was lying on the ground. It did not explain why Merlin was draped over him, his head on Arthur’s shoulder and one arm flung across Arthur’s middle. It certainly did not account for the fact that Arthur’s hand was tangled in the thickness of Merlin’s hair and their legs were slotted together.

They were _cuddling_.

Of course, it was at that moment that Merlin decided to wake.

Blue eyes peeked at Arthur through a frame of dark lashes. Merlin’s skin looked sleep-warm, flushed and pink, and there was a crease on his face from Arthur’s shirt.

“Were you petting me?” Merlin asked, his voice rough from disuse.

Arthur would’ve protested but his traitorous hand had been absently carding through Merlin’s hair.

“And are we cuddling?” Merlin asked, eyes losing some of their drowsiness.

Arthur swallowed. “No?”

Merlin shifted, his leg rubbing against Arthur’s inadvertently, his chin digging into Arthur’s shoulder.

“This looks like cuddling.”

“You slept for an entire day. I thought you were hurt,” Arthur said. “Are you hurt?”

“I was,” Merlin answered. “I should be fine now.”

“Are you sure? You hit that tree hard.”

Merlin chuckled and Arthur could feel it reverberate in his own chest.

“I’m sure. Being magic has its benefits,” Merlin answered with a cheeky smile.

Merlin pushed himself into a sitting position, his hands splayed across Arthur’s chest as he righted. He yawned and stretched arms above his head, his joints creaking as the shoulder of his tunic slipped down giving Arthur a glimpse of a collarbone.

Merlin gave Arthur a guileless grin.

“Breakfast, yeah?”

Arthur felt a bit wrong-footed at the abrupt change in the subject and the fact that Merlin wasn’t going to further mention the cuddling. He sat up, rubbed at his eyes while Merlin dug through their things.

Merlin’s stomach rumbled.

“How did you know how to kill her?” he asked around a bite of dried meat.

Arthur took a slice of the offered food. “My book might have mentioned it.”

“Useful book,” Merlin commented around a mouthful.

Arthur took a bite of the meat and washed it down with water. “Yeah,” he said.

“Does your book have a dragon in it?”

Arthur remembered the picture of the dragon flying above the castle and smoke wreathing the destroyed towers and the fire that plumed from the dragon’s mouth.

“Yes, it does.”

“Is the dragon a general nuisance? Does it speak in riddles and give bad advice?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “No,” he said, drawing out the vowel. “It destroys a castle.”

“Huh, that’s odd.”

Arthur snorted. “Odd. That’s rich, coming from you.”

They ate quickly and prepared to continue their journey. Within a few minutes, Merlin was standing, pack again squarely on his shoulders. He looked healthy and well-rested but Arthur was waiting for Merlin to fall over from his injuries any second.

Merlin didn’t.

Instead, he offered his hand to Arthur and helped pull him to his feet with surprising strength.

“Come on then. Let’s see what the dragon has to say.”

\--  


The brave knight and the sorcerer continued on their journey to the Craggy Mountain.

  
\--

“We’re almost there, Arthur,” Merlin said, picking up his pace.

They had been walking most of the morning and as time approached midday, Arthur was looking forward to a brief rest and not an all out sprint to the finish. He was about to relay that, when he could gather his breaths, when Merlin slowed.

“Do you hear that?” Merlin asked as they approached the winding path that would take them past Oracle’s Rest and up to the Craggy Mountain. “It sounds like crying.”

Arthur stopped, brushed the fringe from his forehead and listened. The sound was of stuttering breaths, sobs and hiccups and the occasional sniffle. It was close by, somewhere along their current trajectory.

Merlin and Arthur exchanged a glance before plowing forward. They took a sharp turn and stopped short when they found a girl in a yellow dress sitting on a tree stump. Her loose blonde hair was disheveled and she had tear tracks on her cheeks and a very wet handkerchief in the hand.

She looked up at their approach, eyes red-rimmed and brimming over.

“Elena?” Arthur asked.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Of course, you know everyone.”

“Do I know you?” she asked, as she wiped the white cloth under her nose.

“No, I guess not. I’m Arthur. This is Merlin,” he said, gesturing to his companion. “Are you alright?”

Elena dropped her hands into her lap and shrugged her shoulders. “Fine,” she answered, “if you believe that _scaly bag of hot air_!” She turned her head and yelled the last bit up the path.

“You’ve seen the dragon then,” Merlin asked, hands wrapping around the straps of the pack on his shoulders. “He’s up there?”

“Yes,” she sniffled, “but don’t bother. He’s full of shite.”

Arthur blinked. “Really?”

“Yes,” she wiped at her nose again. “He said…he said…” her voice and lip trembled and Arthur was suddenly fearful that they would have to somehow comfort a crying _girl_. He was horrid at it, a pat on the back the only trick in his repertoire and it rarely ever worked on Morgana or Gwen. He was sure Merlin would be just as useless, judging by his worried expression and the fact that he was gnawing at his lip again.

Elena blew her nose, loud and much like a horn. “He said that I would meet my true love when I least expect it. What kind of crap is that?”

Merlin and Arthur exchanged another glance and Merlin shifted uncomfortably. Arthur coughed.

“Buck up. You’re a beautiful girl. I’m sure there is someone out there for you,” Arthur said with a friendly smile.

Elena sniffled, wiped at her eyes, and looked at Arthur, pleadingly. Her hair was in complete disarray, fly-aways escaping her haphazard bun. Her dress was not at all flattering and she had a bit of snot sliding out of one nostril.

“You think so?”

“Sure. I’m sure you’ll have men waiting in line for you.”

“Oh my, is it when I least expect it?” she asked, perking up. “Are you him? Are you my true love?”

Arthur swallowed because Elena looked so hopeful and Merlin covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.

“No, it’s not me.”

That set off another round of wailing.

“Great effort there, Arthur,” Merlin said with a scowl.

“What?”

Merlin settled beside Elena on the tree stump and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He gave her a squeeze.

“It’ll be alright.”

She sniffled again and used her dress sleeve to wipe at her face because her handkerchief was useless.

“I’m not usually this way. I just…I thought that if I had my true love, the other girls would stop saying all those awful things about me at my job.”

Arthur stepped forward, realizing that this Elena might be yet another reflection of the Elena he knew. If she was being hassled at her job in this world…

“What awful things?” he asked voice sharp.

At his tone, Elena shrank back further into Merlin’s embrace.

“It’s okay. Arthur is a bit of a prat but he won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, just that the only reason I’m the manager of the tavern is that I’ve given my virtue to the owner. I worked awful hard to get that job and I’m proud of it.” She stuck out her chin. “I’m not a harlot. I’m just…I’m so lonely.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said.

She shrugged again. “It’s alright. I should’ve known better than to see the Great Dragon about it. I knew he’d just laugh at me.”

Merlin smiled softly. “It will all work out, Elena. I know it.”

Elena smiled back and sighed. “The other girls are going to laugh at me for wasting a day to walk up here.”

“They won’t, hold on.” Merlin cupped his hands together and whispered some old words. His eyes glowed and the space between his hands lit up like a flame.

Both Arthur and Elena watched as Merlin drew his hands apart and a flaming rose grew between his palms. The stem was a sparkling green that was unearthly and magical. The bud was twisted flame. He pinched the end of the stem and handed it to Elena.

“My lady,” he said, with a little bow of his head.

Elena stared at the flower with an open mouth and large eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she said as she took it reverently from his hand. “Thank you, Merlin.”

He blushed. “You’re welcome. You can tell the girls at the tavern that the dragon gave it to you to present to your beloved when he comes to you.”

Elena smiled brightly and Arthur realized it was a smile he had never seen her give at the office. It was beautiful and lit up her face. She hooked an arm around Merlin’s neck and kissed him soundly on the cheek.

“Thank you!”

She hopped from her perch on the tree stump and gathered her skirt and her things.

“Free drinks for the both of you if you come to the tavern!”

She skipped past Arthur with her luminescent smile and he couldn’t help but follow her with his eyes as she passed and disappeared around the sharp curve in the path.

“How do you know her?” Merlin asked.

“She’s my assistant at work. I…I never knew she was lonely. I didn’t know the others in the office thought she slept with me to get the job.”

Merlin scrubbed at his cheek with his sleeve where Elena had kissed him. “It’s not anything you would know if she never told you.”

Arthur shook his head, anger and frustration welling in him. “Just like I didn’t know Morgana wanted to go home? Like I didn’t know Percival wasn’t out of the closet? Like I didn’t know that Gwen felt trapped? That Lancelot felt unworthy?” He paced along the path and kicked a stone that happened to be in his way. “These are the people closest to me, Merlin and I know _nothing_ about them! Nothing!”

Merlin stood, hands out placating. “Arthur….” he said low.

Arthur shook his head. “No, Merlin. No. It…” Arthur trailed off and shook his head.

“Hurts?” Merlin offered, hesitantly.

Arthur nodded. “Yeah, yeah. That’s the word.”

Merlin closed the distance between them, stood so close that Arthur could feel the heat of him through his thin tunic.

“Arthur, do you think maybe that’s why you’re here?”

Arthur gulped, trying to swallow the emotion back down. “Maybe.”

Merlin placed a tentative hand on Arthur’s arm and gave him a one of his cheeky smiles. “Let’s go see what the winged beast has to say about it.”

Arthur nodded. “Alright, but if he tries to eat me, you’ll protect me right?”

Merlin laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s not very comforting, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur responded with a little shove.

Merlin grinned and pushed him back then took off up the path.

\--

The brave knight and the sorcerer finally reached the Dragon’s resting place and faced him with courage and resolve.

  
\--

The climb was steep and treacherous. The path was a combination of dirt and rock that slid beneath their feet and more than once Merlin tripped, scraping the palms of his hands on the stone. Arthur reached out, steadied him, one arm wrapped around Merlin’s slim waist, sweaty fist clutching a handful of Merlin’s tunic and together they ascended to where the Great Dragon waited.

Arthur was nervous. For starters, he had never met a real dragon before. Of course, he had never met a real wizard before either but he didn’t view Merlin as a supernatural creature, rather an endearing idiot with a gift. This though would be an actual fire-breathing winged dragon that could kill him with an ill-timed fiery sneeze. His brain was just only beginning to process that he had beheaded a troll the day prior, the encounter with the dragon might send him into overload.

His quip about using Merlin as protection wasn’t completely a joke.

Also, there was the slightest chance that this might be it. He could get to the top and the dragon could send him back without a hitch and Arthur would wake up in his bed or fall through the closet of his flat or step through some glowing portal that would send him back to somewhere in England. What would happen then? Would he just go back to his life like nothing had happened? What about Merlin? What would he do? Would he still be stuck hiding his magic and living in fear of execution?

Arthur was worried and sweating by the time they crested the rise and made it to a large flat and open space. He reluctantly let go of Merlin once they were on steadier ground because hanging onto him would seem a little desperate and odd. After ensuring Merlin wouldn’t fall again, Arthur wandered away for a look, surveying the area.

It was a rock outcropping with a dark cave off to one end. Finding no trace of the dragon, Arthur ventured close to the opposing edge, and looked down to see a sheer drop. He felt anxiety well up into his throat at the thought of plummeting to his death by an accidental swish of a dragon’s tail. He subtly inched away and went back to standing close by Merlin’s side.

Merlin’s face was flushed and his expression one of annoyance.

“He better be here,” he huffed.

No sooner had Merlin uttered the words when a voice boomed from the mouth of the cave startling them both. Arthur would’ve teased Merlin about the little surprised sound he had made if Arthur hadn’t almost squealed like a girl.

“I am right here and quite tired of having my nap interrupted by curious maidens and disgruntled farmers.”

Arthur froze as the monster emerged in slow earthshaking steps that rattled the loose rocks. He watched, rapt and in awe, as the giant scaled head appeared from the shadows, huge yellow eyes almost glowing, and Arthur could see his image reflected in them. He looked terrified.

The dragon’s body followed, the sunlight glinting off the line of scales, its wings folded close to its back and its tail swishing like an irritated house cat’s. Arthur was glad he had made the decision to move away from the edge of the outcropping as he watched it sweep from side to side. The dragon’s claws scraped gouges into the stone when it stepped and when it stretched from its crouch it seemed to double in size.

Arthur swallowed, rubbed his sweaty palms on the legs of his trousers and felt his heart beating fast in his chest at the sight of a mythical animal before him. He knew he was facing death if the dragon so chose it. He looked at Merlin and relaxed minutely when the warlock didn’t seem to be afraid, merely irritated.

The Great Dragon looked down on Merlin and Arthur and chuckled. It smiled showing all of its teeth and Arthur, disconcerted, took a step back and shifted closer to Merlin despite the dragon not having given any indication of wanting to eat them, yet. Merlin gave Arthur an amused sort of look.

“Well, well young warlock,” the dragon’s voice boomed. “I didn’t think I’d see you darken my door again so soon.”

Its breath was hot and smelled like animal and ash. Arthur tried not to wince at the scent because he really didn’t want to offend something that could kill him in a blink.

“Things have changed,” Merlin answered, looking uncomfortable and casting anxious glances in Arthur’s direction.

“Yes, I see this,” the dragon said swinging his massive head to look at Arthur like he was a delicious snack. “It looks like you have found the other half of your coin.”

Merlin’s lips twisted into a frown. “No, he…he’s lost. We need to get him back to his own world.”

“He is not lost, young warlock. He is right where he needs to be.”

Arthur straightened at that and stepped forward, his shoulder brushing Merlin’s, and some part of his mind acknowledged that he had been slightly hiding. “You know me?”

The Great Dragon laughed. “Yes. You are the destiny Emrys has been so intent on avoiding.”

“He is not!” Merlin said fervently. “He just needs to get home.”

The dragon laughed.

“Before he can go home he needs to complete his quest.”

Arthur grabbed the hilt of his sword with one hand while gesturing wildly with the other. “I just completed a quest to get here!”

“No. That was a journey. You will need to complete the quest you were brought here for before you may leave. It is your destiny.”

“If that is to learn more about the individuals in my life then I’m well on my way,” Arthur quipped.

The dragon shook his massive head.

“No, that is only a beneficial side effect.”

“No,” Merlin protested while waving his arms, “no, no, no. No quest.”

“Merlin!” Arthur said, grabbing his flailing limb before he was smacked in the face. He pulled him aside roughly, Merlin’s feet sliding along the rock. “If it is what it takes for me to get home, then I need to do it.”

“No!” Merlin answered yanking his arm out of Arthur’s grip. “You don’t know the dragon like I do. He always talks about destiny and fate and impossible things! Look, we’ll go back to my home and maybe there will be something in my magic book that can send you back and…”

“And what, Merlin? Take a chance with a book? We’ve spent days getting here and I want to hear what he has to say.”

Arthur turned and walked back toward the dragon, determination outweighing the lingering fear.

“Arthur!” Merlin protested but Arthur merely squared his shoulders and stared down the dragon as he did his father when he was a defiant teenager.

“What must I do?”

Merlin ran a hand down his face and let out an exasperated sigh.

The dragon smiled and leaned closer to Arthur.

“You, young traveler, must overthrow the tyrant-king Uther and unite the land.”

\--  


The brave knight and the sorcerer accepted the quest with grace and aplomb.

  
\--

“Defeat the bloody king!” Arthur fumed as he descended down the trail, Merlin a blur of blue tunic beside him. “Who does he think I am? Some kind of knight in shining armor? And what was with the destiny and the other side of your coin nonsense?”

“I warned you!” Merlin responded hotly. “But no you just had to be stubborn.”

Merlin slid a little dangerously and Arthur instinctively reached out and grabbed his arm, righting him again before letting go as they both continued their descent.

“Well, it was your idea to go see the thing in the first place. This is all your fault.”

“My fault?” Merlin squeaked. “You’re the one who decided to get transported here.”

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur said dryly. “It was such a conscious decision.”

“You had to have done something!” Merlin’s tone was one of exasperation as he bit off each word. “Whispered a spell? Read a book? Did you dabble in some magic?”

“I don’t believe in magic!” Arthur snapped back.

At Merlin’s stricken look, Arthur wished he could somehow shove the words back into his throat but he couldn’t and the white hot frustration boiling under his skin certainly wouldn’t allow him to apologize.

“Well,” Merlin said, jaw working, and Arthur couldn’t tell if it was in anger or misery, “we are right back where we started.”

“What do you mean ‘we’? Last time I checked I was the only one from another universe who has to complete an absurd quest or be stuck in this medieval hell.”

“That’s a hell of a thing to say! I have been helping you since you showed up here in your ridiculous shirt and…” Merlin sputtered, “and…oh what did you call that… _tie_! Your ridiculous shirt and tie!”

“Yes, when I saw you cavorting with plants!”

“I was doing _magic_! Magic! Magic! Magic! Magic!”

“If you are so powerful then, why don’t you send me back? Huh? Or do you want to keep me here? Stuck as your friend? Is that it?”

Merlin paled and scowled. “Fine,” he replied, voice soft but angry. “If you want to do it alone, be my guest. I should’ve been home _days_ ago but I’ve been following after you to make sure you didn’t get your ridiculous self killed.”

“My ridiculous self? I was doing just fine on my own.”

Merlin brushed past him and started picking his way down the path in a different direction than the way they came. “Right, because when we met, you didn’t think I was some kind of figment of your imagination.”

Arthur followed, stomping in the undergrowth like a petulant child because Merlin wasn’t going to get away that easily.

“I would’ve figured it out.”

“Uh huh,” Merlin said as he continued.

Arthur glowered remembering that conversation. It felt like a lifetime ago that he had fallen into his world and then realized that he wasn’t actually dreaming. Merlin had mentioned destiny then.

Arthur stopped abruptly and stared at Merlin’s retreating back. Merlin _had_ mentioned destiny then. It was obvious Merlin had spoken to the Great Dragon before. Merlin who lived in Uther’s court, hiding as a physician’s assistant despite being magic and _powerful_. Morgana said Merlin refused to act but it was almost like Merlin had been waiting for something….

“You knew!” Arthur accused.

Merlin stopped and looked over his shoulder, his expression the picture of innocent confusion.

“Knew what?”

“Don’t play innocent!” Arthur snapped. “It all makes sense now. You are a manipulative bastard.”

“I am not!”

“Are too! You’ve engineered this whole thing. You _knew_ the dragon was going to ask this of me! Didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t sure,” Merlin answered.

“You weren’t sure? Run into many other people that fall from the sky, do you?”

“You didn’t fall from the sky, you arse. If you did, you’d have a hell of a lot more bruises.”

“That’s beside the point. Morgana and the dragon both said you’ve been hiding from your destiny. What is it, Merlin? What aren’t you telling me? I think I have a right to know now that I’ve been dragged into this _farce_. What? Were you supposed to kill the king? Take over the land? Let magic run free to frolic with butterflies and unicorns?”

Merlin looked at Arthur, eyes glassy, teeth clenched, hands curled into fists. Some part of Arthur knew it wasn’t a wise decision to taunt the supposedly most powerful being in the land but he didn’t care at that moment. Maybe Merlin would accidentally send him back and he wouldn’t be a part of this absurd and suicidal quest.

“Well Merlin? Magic got your tongue?” Arthur goaded.

“Shut up! You…you don’t even know!”

“No, I don’t know. Maybe you should explain it!”

Merlin curled into himself then, rubbed a hand over his eyes, his shoulders slumped. He leaned against the nearest tree and looked down at the ground, his foot worrying a small hole in the dirt.

“I didn’t know it was you. You were such a prat! I was certain it couldn’t possibly be you and then you started doing noble _things_! Why did you have to do noble things?”

Merlin’s hands were twisting together, fingers knotted, his expression one of open and raw wonderment and confusion.

“I wasn’t…I didn’t…”

“All my life I’ve been told that I have this grand destiny. That I’m not Merlin but Emrys and that it’s my job to bring magic back to Uther’s kingdom with the help of some hero. Do you know what that is like? Do you know how much pressure that is to carry around? To always wonder if this is going to be the day that you’re expected to do something great?”

Arthur swallowed. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

Merlin’s eyes snapped to Arthur’s face, searching, looking for something Arthur didn’t see in himself.

“Maybe,” he answered, hopeful.

“My father, Uther, is a demanding man. He’s…he’s not the easiest person to live with much less work for. I feel like he’s waiting for me to do something spectacular, to live up to his expectations. I don’t know if I ever will.”

Merlin’s eyes were very blue in the sunlight.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Arthur shrugged. “It’s just who he is.”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you everything from the start.”

Arthur shook his head, reached out and clasped his hand on Merlin’s bony shoulder feeling the taut muscles beneath his palm.

“If you had, I would probably still think it’s all a dream.”

Merlin half-smiled and Arthur felt some of the tension leave his body.

“What do we do now, Arthur?”

Arthur cleared his throat, and let his arm drop back to his side. “Where does this trail go?”

Merlin looked down the path like he could see something in the distance despite Arthur only being able to see more trees.

“Hopefully a town.”

“Okay,” Arthur said with a firm nod. “We’ll go there.”

“And then what?”

“Then we try to figure something out.”

Arthur flashed Merlin a confident smile, the one he wore for presentations and board meetings but there was nothing behind it because Arthur wasn’t confident at all.

\--

The brave knight and the sorcerer entered the town and began to plan for their quest.

  
\--

It was growing dark by the time they entered the village.

The town lay nestled at the bottom of the Dragon’s mountain, in the valley between two hills. It sat on the border between Cenred’s and Uther’s kingdoms and both flags could be found flying around the outskirts. From the conversations Arthur picked up as he and Merlin walked along the main thoroughfare, the townsfolk didn’t hold allegiance to either king. The town was lively and prosperous and appeared to be accustomed to seeing strangers since no one questioned or acknowledged their presence.

The buildings they passed were made of solid wood, sturdy but still crude, and closer set together than the bandit town. There was a small market with a bustling crowd and a tavern with rooms to rent. Arthur found himself looking forward to resting on a bed even one marginally comfortable. He never would have thought that in his previous life but he had come to appreciate even the smallest things like a bed, or a bath. At the thought of a bath, Arthur sighed. He would _love_ a bath because he was grimy and he knew he _smelled_.

It had only been a few days but they had been long days to Arthur and felt more like a lifetime. It was more than enough time realize a few things about himself and the people he knew in his world. It also was enough time to realize that he would miss Merlin if he ever went back. Merlin was an oddity, generous and brilliant and Arthur had never experienced anything like him. His effervescent smile actually made Arthur want to smile. Even though Arthur knew he was powerful, he had felt it, felt the warmth of his magic wrapped around him, heard the crackle of it in the air, had been amazed by it, he still wanted to wrap himself around Merlin and protect him. It was silly and a little maddening how much he wanted to grab Merlin’s swinging hand as he walked beside him and feel the strength in his fingers like he had the day they had met.

Arthur was a little bit screwed.

Merlin didn’t seem to notice as he walked oblivious beside Arthur, smiling at the townspeople and looking happy despite the dangerous and unreasonable quest ahead of them.

As they approached the main square, and much to Arthur’s delight the tavern, they saw a group of children laughing and tossing rotten fruit at a wooden structure. There was a man, bound in the stocks, his shaggy head lowered, bits of rotten vegetables clinging to his hair.

“Oh, you can throw better than that, can’t you?” he taunted a little girl with blonde pig tails.

She hefted a moldy squash and threw it with a grunt. It splattered against the board and rained around the man’s head. He laughed, loud and enthusiastic.

“That was much better! Now, try that head of cabbage.”

The man raised his head, his beard and mustache scruffy, his brown eyes crinkled in mirth.

“Gwaine?” Merlin and Arthur both said at once.

They exchanged an incredulous glance and Merlin blushed, pink high on his cheeks and totally endearing.

“Don’t tell me that he is a drunkard in this world too?” Arthur asked.

Merlin smiled. “A certified scoundrel.”

“Ah, at least some things are the same.”

“Merlin!” Gwaine crowed. “Good to see you! You’re looking well!”

“So are you, save for the vegetables and the fact that you are in the stocks.”

Gwaine laughed. “Well, you know me. Alright, kids, scamper off. You’ve had your fun. It’s grown up talk now.”

The children gathered around the stocks groaned. One pouted but ran away to go play and the rest followed, kicking up a cloud a dust into Gwaine's face. He coughed and sneezed, then hung slack-limbed in the stocks.

"I don't suppose you could,” he gestured with one of his bound hands to the lock, “help me out?”

“I don’t know, Gwaine. How long do you have left in there?” Merlin asked.

“A few hours but it’s really uncomfortable. My back is killing me.”

Merlin’s expression was indecisive and his shuffled his feet, gaze darting to see if anyone was looking their way.

“Merlin,” Arthur warned, “this could get us into trouble.”

“Oi,” Gwaine said, swinging his head around so he could glare at Arthur, “stay out of this, princess. This is between me and my friend here.”

“Princess?” Arthur sputtered. “You’re the one being a damsel in distress and complaining of being uncomfortable.”

“Ha! A damsel!” Gwaine grinned and nodded toward Merlin. “Who is this and where’d you find him? I kind of like him.”

“He’s Arthur and shut up, both of you, you’re making a scene.” Merlin laid his hand over the lock and his eyes glowed for a moment before Arthur heard the tinny sound of metal stressing then breaking. “There. I’ve loosened it. It’s up to you for the rest.”

“You are a true friend, Merlin.”

Merlin huffed. “What did you do to get in there this time, anyway?”

Gwaine grinned again. “I was a little rowdy at the tavern.”

Arthur crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Let me guess, you drank, hit on some girl that already had a boyfriend and got into a fight that resulted in broken furniture.”

“Have we met?” Gwaine asked. “Do you know me somehow?”

“No. I just know your type.”

“Ha! So anyway, Merlin, this town is very lucky that it has _two_ taverns. I was only thrown out of one! I’ll meet you in the other at the end of town near the stable.”

Merlin nodded in agreement. “Alright, that sounds…”

“Hold on,” Arthur interrupted, turning his back to Gwaine and addressing Merlin in a low voice. “We need to be working on our quest, not socializing with a known rabble-rouser.”

“I heard that.”

“But, Arthur, he could help us.”

“I would, you know.”

“I know Gwaine,” Arthur said ignoring the interruption. “He’s loyal but a magnet for trouble.”

“You know, I’m right here.”

“He’s my _friend_ , Arthur. He wouldn’t knowingly endanger us. I swear.”

Arthur frowned at Merlin’s unhappy and conflicted look.

“Fine,” Arthur said sharply, “but one hint of trouble and…”

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll be on my best behavior,” Gwaine said with an impish grin.

Arthur sighed.

Merlin’s smile lit up the darkening sky.

-

The tavern at the end of town was large but fairly empty when they entered. The fading light illuminated the large open space filled with chairs and tables and they picked their way across the floor to the counter. They could hear someone rummaging around behind it but they were not visible and Arthur was getting impatient.

He cleared his throat and he heard a bump that rattled the tankards and a loud curse.

Elena emerged rubbing a spot on her head. She looked different than last time. Her hair was brushed and styled, the flower Merlin had given her twined in her gold locks and her dress was pressed and clean. Her face had obviously been scrubbed and faint makeup had been applied. She looked more like the Elena Arthur knew that sat at the desk outside his office and took phone calls and less like the sobbing girl they had found at the end of the dragon’s path.

“Merlin! Arthur!” she greeted surprised. “What brings you to my tavern?”

“We would like a room,” Arthur said.

Merlin fished out some coins from the pack Morgana had given them and handed them over.

“And a meal,” he added.

“Of course, anything else.”

Arthur grimaced as he caught a whiff of his shirt. It smelled like a mix of body odor, troll and dragon. “A bath?”

“On the house,” she said. “I’ll have the tub and hot water sent up to your room. It’s the door to the left at the top of the stairs. When you’re done with your bath, I’ll make sure we have some nice warm food ready.”

“You are a saint, Elena,” Arthur said, taking her hand and gallantly kissing her knuckles.

She giggled.

Merlin scowled as if Arthur had done something wrong.

The room was small but it had two beds and fresh linens and Arthur sighed wearily as he sat on the edge of the mattress and kicked off his boots. It wasn’t long before a man entered with a round wooden tub followed by some women with buckets of water. The women had to make several trips but before long the bath was full and steaming and extra sheets were piled on the end of the bed for drying off. They had also left a cake of soap and some cloths.

Merlin stared at the water like it was going to eat him.

“Oh, thank you Elena,” Arthur said as he stared in awe at the water. “Mind if I go first?”

Merlin gave Arthur a teasing bow and swept his hand in a grand gesture. “Have at it. I know how princesses need to be clean.”

Arthur pulled a face and Merlin laughed while retreating to the other side of the room.

Arthur reached for the ties to his shirt and that’s when he noticed there was not a screen and that the bath was sat in the middle of the room at the end of the two beds. It’s not that Arthur particularly minded Merlin watching but he didn’t want it to be awkward. Would it be more awkward if Arthur asked Merlin not to look? Who was to say Merlin wanted to look at Arthur? He certainly didn’t act like he wanted to. In fact, Arthur was pretty sure that Merlin would rather look at Gwaine.

With a huff at that thought, Arthur stripped off his shirt and checked over his shoulder at Merlin. Merlin, for his part, was sprawled on his bed, boots off, arm flung over his eyes. Arthur may have been disappointed but his giddiness over having an actual bath outweighed the sting to his pride and he stepped out of his socks before quickly undoing the laces on his trousers. With one last quick glance, he shucked off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the bath. He sighed, embarrassingly loud, and sunk into the steaming water.

It was not big enough to stretch his legs out but Arthur could sit comfortably with his knees poking out above the rim of the tub.

It was heaven.

The steam smelled like lavender and the water cut through the grim and dirt that Arthur had acquired. The hot water soothed his sore back from all the sleeping on the ground and the aches in his shoulders and legs from sword fighting and walking. If he let himself, he could fall asleep right there, cradled in warmth, except, he couldn’t because that would be embarrassing with Merlin right there.

He scrubbed quickly, dunking his head a few times to lather and rinse and when he finally finished, he realized he would have to stand and take a step to make it to the sheets to dry. He also realized that he would have to put back on the same sweaty and smelly clothes and that would immediately defeat the purpose of his bath.

Arthur wrinkled his nose at the thought.

He looked over his shoulder at Merlin and found Merlin looking back with startled blue eyes.

Merlin squeaked and ducked his head, eyes squeezed shut.

“Sorry! Sorry, I…uh…heard you splash and…”

“It’s alright, Merlin. I just…did Morgana give you any spare clothes in that pack of yours?”

Merlin peeked shyly from under his eyelashes. “No, but I can magic your other clothes clean.”

Arthur felt his eyebrows climb to his hairline. “You can do that?”

Merlin nodded. Tentatively, and obviously embarrassed at being caught staring at Arthur in the bath, Merlin raised his hand and whispered. Arthur’s clothes rose from the gross pile they were on the floor. There was a flash, a wooshing sound, and Arthur’s clothes went from being wet, crumpled and stained to freshly washed, pressed and smelling like flowers.

“That’s amazing.”

Merlin snorted. “After everything and it’s having your clothes cleaned that wins you over.” Merlin snuggled back down into his mattress and flung an arm over his eyes. “I should’ve done that sooner. I’ve been enduring your smell for days.”

“Oi!” Arthur protested with a laugh and a splash.

Merlin chuckled.

Arthur proceeded to extricate himself from the tub and dry quickly with the sheet before stepping back into his trousers and pulling his shirt over his damp head.

“Your turn,” he said cheerfully as he rubbed the sheet over his hair. “I hope it isn’t too dirty and cold for you.”

Merlin pushed himself up from the bed while Arthur hopped into his for a quick rest.

Arthur watched Merlin through squinted eyes because Merlin had been watching _him_ and it was only fair that Arthur get a glimpse of Merlin.

Merlin turned his back to the beds and stared down at the water. He waved his hand over the tub and steam rose again quickly and the water appeared as fresh as when Arthur stepped in.

If Merlin was abashed at stripping with another man in the room, he didn’t show it as he unbuckled his thin belt and pulled his shirt over his head. Arthur’s eyes widened at the expanse of skin that was revealed to him. Merlin’s torso was surprisingly muscled and his skin was pale, ethereal, in the fading light and free from the bruises Arthur was sure Merlin would have. Arthur’s gaze wandered from Merlin’s broad shoulders, down the strong line of his spine, to the narrow indent of his waist and the swell of his arse. He watched raptly as Merlin picked at the strings of his breeches and when the waistline loosened enough for Arthur to spy the jut of Merlin’s hips, he rolled over and closed his eyes, willing the tightness in his own breeches away.

The sound of water splashing and Merlin’s long contented sigh didn’t help.

Arthur must have fallen asleep in that small span of time it took Merlin to take his bath because one minute he was trying to erase the picture of Merlin half-naked form his mind’s eye and the next he was being awoken by a shake. He blinked open his eyes slowly and was greeted with the vision of a smiling, pink-cheeked Merlin.

“Hey,” Merlin said softly, hand still clasping Arthur’s shoulder and leaning entirely too close. “I’m starving. Ready to go down and get our dinner?”

Arthur looked around the room, confused. “Did I fall asleep?”

“You snore.”

“I do not!” Arthur retorted automatically, sitting up in the bed.

Merlin snickered. “Like a bear.”

“You are a horrible liar.” Arthur said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his head still hazy from his nap.

Merlin merely smiled.


	5. Part 4

-

The tavern had their candles lit by the time Merlin and Arthur came down from the room for their meal. Their meal consisted of a hearty stew that they both shoveled down with little thought to etiquette. There was a hunk of warm crusty bread that they shared and Arthur used his half to sop up the thick gravy. Cool tankards of mead were placed in front of them when their meal was finished and Arthur gulped his down far too fast. Another was placed in front of him in minutes and Elena sent him a wink from the bar. Lightheaded from the first one and full from his delicious meal and feeling the lingering warmth on his skin from the bath, Arthur leaned back in his seat, clutched the handle of the mug lazily and relaxed.

It was quite possibly the best meal Arthur had ever had including the five star restaurant he had so often shared with Gwen. This was different, the candles weren’t pretentious but necessary, and the stew was simple but delicious. It helped that Merlin was sitting next to him.

Arthur watched as Merlin sipped his own mug slowly, thoughtfully, long fingers leaving damp trails in the condensation on the tankard, cheeks rosy from the light of the candles or from his own reaction to the alcohol. Lips wet and red, fringe hanging in his eyes, black hair curling around his ears as it dried, Merlin slouched in his own seat and watched as the tavern filled with patrons.

The tables around them began to become crowded as the late afternoon turned into the evening and Arthur soon found himself squished against Merlin in their chairs and surrounded by the regular tavern goers. Arthur’s shoulder sat snug next to Merlin’s and Arthur could smell the soap from Merlin’s bath still fresh on his skin.

“You said you worked for your father,” Merlin said, leaning close to Arthur in order to be heard. “What do you do?”

“I publish books.”

“Publish? Like write books?” Merlin asked, taking a sip of his mead.

Arthur shook his head. “No. Other people write the books. I make them accessible to everyone.”

“Really? Why? Do people read where you are from?”

“Yes. People read for knowledge and for pleasure.”

“Huh?” Merlin said. “You come from an odd place.”

“You’ve said that before, Merlin.” Arthur pointed out with what he knew to be a sloppy smile but he didn’t care. “Do you read?”

“Yes, I can read,” Merlin responded quickly. “I read my magic book and books about anatomy and herbs. What about you? What do you read?”

Arthur leaned closer. “I read about magic.”

Merlin knocked his forehead into Arthur’s, his breath hot on Arthur’s cheek. “You don’t believe in magic.”

Arthur knew his two tall tankards of mead had gone to his head and that he was warm and hazy but Merlin was right there, his lips so close to Arthur’s skin that it was making his head spin.

“I am beginning to rethink my position,” Arthur murmured.

Merlin’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as he leaned the tiniest bit closer. “Any particular reason for that, Arthur?”

Arthur was mesmerized by Merlin’s mouth and wanted to close the distance between them, to taste the mead that was glistening on Merlin’s full lips. “I might have met someone who changed my mind.”

Arthur was going to do it. He was going to kiss Merlin in the middle of a medieval tavern. Except he didn’t.

“Merlin!” Gwaine yelled above the din of the bar.

The sound made Merlin jerk back with enough force to almost topple his chair.

“Merlin, there you are!” Gwaine said, maneuvering through the crowd, mug in his hand, and somehow managing to find a chair and shove it between them.

“Gwaine!” Merlin said happily. “You made it!”

Gwaine gave Arthur a smug look. “I did. It looks like you and your friend have already been here a while. Getting cozy then?” He asked, directed to Arthur.

Merlin nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, we had dinner! And baths!”

Gwaine smiled. “How much have you had, Merlin?”

Arthur gestured to the half full cup in front of Merlin. “Just the half.”

Gwaine tutted and shook his head. “And if you knew Merlin at all you’d know that would be enough to make him loopy,” Gwaine said, giving Arthur a dark look.

Arthur straightened in his chair. “I _do_ know Merlin!” he protested, sticking a finger in Gwaine’s face. “We’ve cuddled!”

Gwaine gave Arthur a bemused look. “And how much have you had, friend?”

Arthur looked down at his tankard and frowned. His head was still fuzzy despite not being in close proximity with Merlin any longer and he did feel a little buzzed. Apparently, Arthur not giving Gwaine an immediate answer was answer enough.

“I can’t believe you two,” Gwaine said, knocking into Merlin’s shoulder then Arthur’s. “Starting without me. I will have to catch up!”

Gwaine took a deep pull from his mug and slammed it down with a flourish. He waved to Elena and a few minutes later, she came over with a smile, setting down three fresh mugs.

“Thank you, dear lady,” Gwaine said beaming.

Elena blushed. “Did you hear?” she asked, excited. “There is a troubadour here and he has agreed to perform.”

Merlin perked up from where he had been slouching against Gwaine’s shoulder, not that Arthur was staring or jealous at all.

“A troubadour? How exciting!”

“Very!” Gwaine added.

He gave Elena a roguish wink and her blush deepened. Arthur wondered if she would be pulling the rose out of her hair and handing it over right then. She didn’t but Arthur noticed that she didn’t charge Gwaine for his drink either.

“He should be starting soon. I hope you enjoy!”

The other patrons nearby heard, and talk of a traveling troubadour filled the small space quickly. Apparently it was a rare treat for the village and Merlin showed some excitement toward it. Arthur was incredulous that a travelling bard would be a source of entertainment for Merlin after he had spent part of the day talking to a live dragon.

Merlin leaned over Gwaine. “Arthur,” he said, smiling and lopsided, “did you hear? There is a troubadour!”

Arthur smiled fondly. “I heard.”

Before Merlin could respond and before Gwaine could maneuver Merlin out of his lap, the faint strains of music could be heard from the front of the bar. Every conversation hushed as the troubadour jumped up onto the bar, lute in hand.

Arthur laughed and was immediately shushed by Merlin and all those around him.

He should’ve known it would be Leon.

Leon was Arthur’s closest friend and had always been interested in the whimsical. When they had been in uni together, Leon had run a D&D group every Thursday night. Arthur had always teased him mercilessly about it but Leon had always been good-natured in response. He was also constantly trying to get Arthur to publish books that were similar in nature to the storylines found in his made-up adventures. Leon as a storyteller was just as fitting as Lancelot as a knight and Gwaine as a scoundrel.

Leon strummed the strings on his instrument and began to sing a bawdy tale about a man who had a mistress that ended up running away with his wife. It had most of the tavern goers howling with laughter including Gwaine who even thumped Arthur hard on the back a few times. Merlin was chuckling and gulping down more mead than was probably advisable while Arthur was transfixed by the little droplets running down Merlin’s chin and then his neck.

Leon finished his song and the tavern roared with laughter and applause.

Arthur took that time to look around at the patrons. He spied Percival in the corner talking with a dark-skinned man and he hunched down in his seat, hoping he wasn’t seen because he was honestly embarrassed about what he had said and Merlin’s disdain in that moment had stuck with him. Elena was behind the bar collecting money and passing out drinks, smiling though disheveled. She was also occasionally and as discreetly as she could manage, glimpsing over at Gwaine. Other than those two, he knew no one and that was something of a relief.

Leon started another story, this one about a sorcerer who could call to dragons, and a knight who was brave and valiant and Arthur watched as Merlin’s cheeks pinked. The tale Leon spun was intricate and told the story of how the sorcerer and knight snuck into a tyrant-king’s court and overthrew him with the help of a bandit leader and outlaws. Arthur caught Merlin’s gaze, his eyes reflecting the glow of the candlelight. Merlin smiled, soft and sweet and definitely influenced by alcohol, and in the background, Arthur could hear Leon’s strong tenor singing about the affection that grew between the sorcerer and the knight. Suddenly, Arthur realized three things.

The first was that the Leon in his world was the author of the fantasy novels that he always called Arthur about.

The second was that they had just been given their answer about how to defeat Uther in Leon’s tale.

And thirdly, Arthur realized he was probably a bit smitten with Merlin, more than just the physical attraction that bloomed between them and the camaraderie of being on the quest together. In fact, Arthur felt that if Gwaine didn’t remove his arm from around Merlin’s shoulders, Arthur would remove it for him.

Also, Arthur realized as he looked down into yet another empty tankard that he was a little drunk.

“I’m going to go get another one,” Merlin yelled over the din as Leon finished.

He stood from his chair, wobbly and more uncoordinated than usual. Arthur watched as he tripped his way around the crowd to the bar.

“He’s my best friend, you know,” Gwaine said right into Arthur’s ear.

Arthur turned to face Gwaine. “Is he now?”

“Yes, he is. I’ve seen the way you look at him so consider this your warning. If you hurt him, so help me I’ll track your princess self down and do unspeakable…”

“Watch where you are going, runt!”

Arthur and Gwaine both looked up in time to see a big burly man grab Merlin by his lapels and shove him to the floor.

Arthur jumped to his feet, Gwaine less than a second behind him.

“Hey!” they yelled in unison.

The man pointed a meaty finger at Merlin on the ground. “This your friend?”

“Yes,” they said again, sharing a look.

“He spilled mead all over my boots.”

“Looks to be an improvement,” Gwaine said with a speculative look.

The thug growled and grabbed Merlin by the hair. Merlin's hands flew to the man's wrist to try to relieve the pressure, his feet scrabbling across the floor to gain purchase.

“You can watch while he licks it up.”

“Hands off him,” Arthur said, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword, and stepping around his table to get a better path to Merlin.

“And what are you going to do about it?”

Arthur smiled. “Nothing. I just did that so she could get behind you.”

Elena had snuck up behind the man and smashed the pot she had been holding over his head. It shattered and Merlin flinched away from the clay pieces that fell around him. The man’s fingers slackened from Merlin’s hair and he swayed dangerously, staggered a few steps before slumping to the ground.

Merlin scrambled away until he was back at Arthur’s side. They shared a small smile until they both realized, along with Gwaine, that everyone was staring at them and slowly standing. The sound of chairs scraping across the wooden floor was loud in the sudden silence.

“You would pick to piss off,” Gwaine muttered while stepping closer to Arthur, “the bloke in here that has the most friends.”

“Sorry,” Merlin answered, tone contrite and shaky. “Next time, I’ll just lick the boots.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Arthur shot back. “We’ll just slowly make for the door. It’s not like we did anything wrong anyway.”

“How courageous of you, Arthur,” Gwaine quipped.

“Do you have a better idea, Gwaine?” Arthur asked.

Gwaine nodded. “Yes, apologize.” Gwaine cleared his throat. “Dear patrons of this lovely tavern and friends of the man Elena brained on behalf of our dear friend. We,” he made a gesture that encompassed both Merlin and Arthur, “would like to apologize that you have such a hideously mannered acquaintance.”

Arthur heard Merlin hiss “Gwaine!” indignantly before he was ducking out of the way of a punch. If Arthur hadn’t been tipsy, he might have been able to be a little more coordinated and might not have run right into someone else knocking their drink all over the person next to them.

The bar erupted.

As far as bar fights go, it wasn’t much different than the ones he had in uni when Gwaine would do something equally as stupid. However, this time there was no bouncer to break it up or cops to call if it managed to get a little out of hand.

Arthur tried to keep close to Merlin and Gwaine but one well-placed shot to his jaw by a meaty fist had him reeling into a table. He fell gracelessly and upended it, sending drinks and food into the air and the edge of it into someone’s stomach. He didn’t get any time to recover before someone was hauling him to his feet by his shirt. Arthur grabbed the nearest thing to him, part of a chair leg that someone had smashed, and swung hard, hitting his assailant in ribs until he was let go.

The bar was a cacophony of sound; wood crashing, people grunting, an unending variety of thumps and thuds. Arthur managed to get a moment to survey the scene. Leon was behind the bar with Elena protecting her as needed. Gwaine was in the thick of it, throwing punches, his hair obscured his face but Arthur knew he would be sporting an impish smile that may or may not be bloodied. Percival had joined the fray as had his friend from earlier that Arthur now thought looked very much like Gwen’s estranged brother Elyan.

Arthur found Merlin in the crowd, dodging out of the way of people and objects, his eyes sporadically glowing as people tripped over moving chairs or stumbled because some pot fell on their head or dish hit them in the stomach. He was staying close to the wall, smart person he was, but it didn’t keep someone from creeping up behind him wielding a chair.

“Merlin, look out!” Arthur yelled, trying to sprint over but being blocked by a mass of bodies. Arthur threw a punch and connected with another man’s face just to get him out of the way. “Merlin!”

Arthur watched, impotent and scared, as the attacker raised the chair above his head and prepared to bring it down across Merlin’s back.

“Merlin! Behind you!”

Arthur wasn’t going to get there in time and abject fear welled up in his throat as he pushed yet another person out of his way. Time seemed to slow as the miscreant brought the chair down, intent on breaking it across Merlin’s shoulders, but in the seconds it took, Percival was suddenly there. Percival grabbed the chair in mid arc and wrenched it from the man’s grasp before tossing it to the side. He menacingly approached him, a growl low in his throat, and the thug took off out the door.

Merlin looked stunned.

Arthur made it to his side a few moments later.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hands running over Merlin’s limbs.

“I’m fine, Arthur!” Merlin yelled over the noise. “Thanks to Percival here.”

Percival shrugged, a small smile teasing his lips. “Any friend of Lancelot’s is a friend of mine. I’d hate to have to tell him that you were killed by a chair.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, sincerely.

Percival blushed.

The bar fight was still raging, even though only half of the original crowd was still standing.

“Is there anything you can do about this Merlin?” Arthur yelled. “You know, magic!”

Merlin startled but looked out at the crowd. “I…I don’t know.”

“Oh come on then, powerful sorcerer. Stop them, like you did me and Lancelot.”

Merlin sighed then nodded. “Alright.”

He lifted his hand and with just a twitch of his wrist and a flash the entire crowd stopped. They were frozen, in mid movement, even those fighting on their side.

Merlin separated out Gwaine and at Percival’s request, Elyan, and set them over by Leon and Elena along with the rest of the tavern girls. He released them from his magic and they all were able to move again, staring wide eyed at the rest of the crowd stuck like mannequins.

Merlin whispered something and the two doors to the place swung open. Merlin then manipulated the rest of the crowd out of the doors and once the last drunkard was outside the doors slammed shut and locked themselves from the inside.

Merlin then went about the work of restoring the room. Tables and chairs were righted and fixed and the bar room was repaired to its original state. It looked as if a brawl hadn’t taken place at all.

Once the last stool slid into place, Merlin’s slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes.

“That was amazing, Merlin!” Gwaine said, from where he was standing next to a flabbergasted Leon and Elyan.

Merlin waved. “It was nothing.”

“It certainly was something,” Leon said. “That was the most powerful display of magic I have ever seen.”

Arthur took Merlin’s arm and Merlin startled, opened his eyes at the touch of Arthur’s hand. “Come on. Let’s sit down for a few. You’ve tired yourself out again.”

The group gathered around a large table and introductions were made all the way around. Arthur, sober from the adrenaline and the glasses of water he was now drinking, still kept close to Merlin’s side.

Elyan came up to Arthur and stuck out his hand. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Elyan.”

Arthur took Elyan’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “You’re Guinevere’s brother, right?”

Elyan nodded. “Yes. You know, she came to visit me after she got down from her tower. It was the first time I had seen her in years,” he said a little wistfully.

“I’m glad you got to see her.”

Elyan smiled and it was warm and happy. “She told me what you and Merlin did. Thank you for helping her when I couldn’t.”

Arthur knew very little about Elyan. Arthur had only met Elyan once and that had not been a happy occasion. He knew there was something between Gwen and her brother but she wouldn’t talk about it and it seemed that getting Gwen down from her tower in this world helped her address whatever it was. Elyan appeared happy to have reconnected with his sister and Arthur thought about talking with Gwen about it when he returned to his world. If he ever got back there.

“She’s exaggerating. We didn’t do much,” Arthur grumbled at the praise.

Elyan just grinned. “She said you’d say that too.”

Elena came back from behind the bar and handed out cold wet clothes and Arthur held one to his jaw while Gwaine held one to his bloodied lip. Gwaine smiled at Elena fondly and thanked her with a gallant bow. She blushed.

“Sorry about ruining your performance, Leon,” Merlin said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to.”

Leon laughed. “It was perfect! You’ve given me a great new story to write!”

“The ballad of the hapless sorcerer?” Percival said with a grin. “And his companion, the would-be knight?”

Everyone laughed and Merlin ducked his head.

“You won’t be able to stay here long, Merlin,” Gwaine said, breaking the levity with a serious tone. “Half of this town thinks they are in Uther’s kingdom.”

Merlin grimaced and Arthur was struck by the knowledge of why Merlin hadn’t intervened sooner. He was afraid. They were in Uther’s kingdom and now Merlin had outed himself as a sorcerer so close to his home.

“Reports will be sketchy,” Elena said. “We will do our best to throw suspicion elsewhere. Right lads?”

The table all nodded.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Merlin,” Arthur said low into Merlin’s ear. “We still have a land to unite.”

Merlin smiled softly.

“Alright, I don’t know about you lot but I’m exhausted,” Elena said standing. She reached to gather the tankards but Gwaine was fast and grabbed three one hand while the other continued to ice his swollen lip.

“Let me help you.”

Percival and Elyan stood. “We’re staying in the tavern down the way,” Elyan said.

“Yes, and we’ll try to discredit anyone that says anything other than a good bar brawl happened here tonight.”

“Thank you, Percival, for you know, stopping my demise in more ways than one,” Merlin said shaking his hand.

“Like I said, any friend of Lancelot’s.”

The group dispersed and Arthur and Merlin made their way up the stairs to their room. If Arthur allowed himself a brief touch to Merlin’s hand before they blew out the candle and settled into their separate beds, Merlin didn’t say anything.

\--

The following day, Arthur and Merlin planned their strategy over a hearty breakfast of eggs and sausage and bread.

“You’ll come to Camelot with me and I’ll say you’re a friend of mine from my home village,” Merlin said around a mouthful of bacon.

“And then I will ingratiate myself into the castle while we gather information and plan for the perfect moment to alert Morgana to invade.” Arthur took a heaping bite of eggs and thought of spending the next couple of weeks pretending to be a servant in the castle. It wasn’t the perfect plan but at least he would be near Merlin.

“There is just one problem,” Merlin said, looking down into his plate. “It could take months, Arthur. You’d be stuck here for that long.”

Arthur sighed. “Merlin, if it’s what I have to do to get home, then I’ll do it.”

“Yeah, but, it’s only been a few days since you’ve been here and I can’t expect you to stay here forever.” Merlin fidgeted in his seat, his twitchy hands and his refusal to meet Arthur’s gaze gave the intent behind his words away.

Arthur reached over, laid his hand on top of Merlin’s. “I’ll stay as long as I’m needed.”

Merlin stared at their hands before looking up at Arthur through his eyelashes. “Don’t promise things that you can’t keep Arthur.” He pulled his hand from beneath Arthur’s. “I’ll go pack.”

Merlin left Arthur at the table confused and with a pile of cold eggs.

-

Elena saw them off, giving them enough food to last for the rest of their travels. Gwaine was there as well and lamented the fact that he could not go with them for he had been banished from the city just as Lancelot had. He had made friends with Percival and Elyan, however, and he was going to stay behind in the town a few days before travelling with the pair.

Arthur had quickly realized that Merlin inspired loyalty and affection in everyone he met. So when Gwaine grabbed Arthur in a rough one-armed hug and whispered dangerously in his ear about protecting Merlin, Arthur wasn’t the least bit surprised and he took it to heart.

The road to Uther’s citadel was well-travelled and not at all like the terrain they had been forced to endure the last few days. It was flat and even, deep wheel ruts in the path, and it cut a swath through the land that was wide and navigable. It was easy for Arthur to lose track of time while they walked and reflect on his last few days. It all blurred together into one mass of adventures and memories and all he really knew was that he had been captured by bandits, interrupted a sword fight, assisted a maiden in a tower, defeated a troll, spoke to a dragon and been involved in a bar fight.

Arthur was so mired in his thoughts that he didn’t see the attack coming before it happened.

One minute, Merlin was jabbering on about Ealdor so Arthur could be well versed about the village and the next there was a thundering of hooves, a cloud of dust being kicked up around them that choked them both as guards and a knight from Uther’s kingdom surrounded them. The horses were blowing hard and the guards used the restless animals to force Merlin and Arthur closer together, to pen them in and not allow for any chance to escape. Merlin was coughing, doubled over. Arthur’s heart had leapt into his throat, beating so loudly he thought everyone could hear it. Fear and anger welled within him as he took in the red of the uniforms, the gleam of mail and armour and the edges of sharpened swords.

It was chaos for a moment, the large sweaty bodies of the horses, their dangerous hooves, and the spears and swords pointed at them both that came far too close for Arthur’s comfort. Arthur’s hand gripped his sword but knew it was useless compared to so many men. He grabbed Merlin instead, righted him, and tried not to flinch at the pale pallor of his skin and wide blue of his eyes.

He and Merlin were at their mercy.

Merlin stood beside him, inching closer as the some of the horses danced from nervousness and the overeager soldiers jabbed their weapons in their direction. Arthur let go of Merlin’s shoulders and grabbed his hand and squeezed, trying to instill comfort, hoping that these men were confused or lost and weren’t there for the reason Arthur and Merlin both feared.

The knight on his horse looked down at the pair with a sneer.

“You,” he said pointing a finger at Merlin, “are being arrested for the use of sorcery within the boundaries of the kingdom of Uther Pendragon. You are hereby considered a criminal to the crown and will be punished for your crimes.”

Arthur felt the breath knocked out of him as everything that Merlin feared rapidly came true in front of him.

“Seize him.”

Suddenly, several guards were dismounting, warily approaching before attacking, grabbing, putting their hands on Merlin’s body, pulling him away from Arthur. Merlin yelped in pain, struggled against them. Arthur lunged, his own hands wrapping around the guard’s arms, trying to pull them away. It was a flurry of movement, a desperate last effort as Arthur tried to hold on, tried to keep the promise he made to Merlin the night before, to protect him.

Arthur sensed more hands, more bodies invading their space, heard the neighing of excited horses, felt the sweat dripping down between his shoulder blades and the tightness in his throat. Someone grabbed him from behind, wrenched his arms back so pain exploded along his shoulders but he continued to struggle.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled, desperation lacing his voice, causing it crack. “Fight, Merlin! Fight!”

Merlin tried. He struggled, and fought, kicked and clawed. Wild fear made his movements uncoordinated and jerky. There were too many, a sea of Pendragon red overwhelming and drowning the blue of Merlin’s tunic and Merlin was swept away in the current.

Arthur fought just as hard, spurred on by panic and fear. He threw his elbows, connecting with someone’s ribs, and kicked and scratched and screamed for Merlin as he was dragged away, his voice a broken litany of Merlin’s name. He saw one last glimpse of his friend, a limp body being thrown across the pommel of a saddle until he felt the blow to the back of his head and everything went dark.

-

Arthur came to slowly, pain spiking down the back of his neck, hot and white. He scrunched his eyes closed tighter and dreaded even trying to open them wondering what the hell Gwaine had gotten them into this time. This was clearly more than a hangover. In fact, it felt like he had been hit over the head….

Everything came rushing back in flashes. Merlin. The guards. The magic.

“Merlin!” Arthur cried, wrenching himself into a sitting position.

He immediately regretted it. His stomach rolled and his vision blackened at the edges.

Elena appeared in his blurred sight and with a firm hand to his chest, pushed him back down into the bed.

“Easy, Arthur,” she said.

Arthur slumped back, gasping to keep his stomach in place and Elena put a wet cloth on his forehead.

“Merlin,” he whispered.

Elena looked sympathetic as she carded a careful hand through Arthur’s hair.

“Arthur, you were found on the road by a farmer. He brought you back here.”

“Where’s Merlin?” Arthur insisted.

Elena bit her lip. “He wasn’t with you, Arthur.”

“How long have I been out? How long since we left?”

“Just a few hours. We were very surprised to see you in the back of that farmer’s cart.” Elena pressed another cold cloth to the side of Arthur’s neck.

There was a loud thumping, the sound of heavy boots racing up the stairs and the door to the room flew open. Gwaine stood there, chest heaving.

“He’s just awoken,” Elena said, standing swiftly and putting her hands on Gwaine’s chest to stop him. “Give him a few moments.”

Gwaine ignored her and brushed past. “What happened? Where’s Merlin?” he demanded.

Arthur reached a hand up to his throbbing temple as Gwaine paced in front of him. “They surrounded us, guards from Uther’s kingdom. They…they took him.”

Gwaine swore loudly. “Is there any chance he could’ve escaped?”

Arthur hoped so but he saw the way Merlin had hung limply in the guards’ hands.

“No,” Arthur whispered. “No, he was hurt.”

“Once he was in the hands of Uther’s guards, they would’ve drugged him as well,” Elena said, looking up at Gwaine. “They all carry a vial of it in case they run across a sorcerer. It subdues them until…” she trailed off and looked back to Arthur, her expression worried.

Arthur pushed himself to sitting, threw his legs over the side of the bed, his head spinning, his stomach churning from the blow and from the guilt of allowing Merlin’s capture. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t in the book that he could remember.

He bent over, the cloth falling away, and rested his head in his hands, wishing for some kind of pain relief.

“We’ll have to rescue him,” Arthur said evenly.

“Oh, you think?” Gwaine spat. “Or else he’s going to burn on a pyre. Or be at the mercy of the headman’s axe. Have you ever seen a sorcerer killed, Arthur? Well, have you? I have and it’s a gruesome thing.”

“Stop!” Elena cried, her eyes tearing, her fingers pressing against her open mouth. “Please, just stop.”

Gwaine failed to look contrite.

Arthur closed his eyes, willed the pain and the tiredness away and with as much effort as he could draw upon, stood on shaky legs. He took a step, almost crumpled but caught himself. It helped that Gwaine was suddenly there, a presence at his side. Gwaine swung Arthur’s arm over his shoulders and muttered something about noble princesses.

“Where are the others?” Arthur asked, quietly, his head still pounding in time with his heartbeat, but his vision having cleared somewhat.

“Leon is downstairs,” Elena said coming close to Arthur’s other side to support him.

Gwaine gripped Arthur harder. “Elyan and Percival are still in town. Why? What are you thinking, Arthur?”

“Gather them, Elena. Get them all in the tavern.”

Elena nodded and shared a look with Gwaine before leaving and running down the stairs.

“What are you planning, princess,” Gwaine asked as he maneuvered them both out of the door and down the stairs to the main dining room.

Arthur sighed. “A rescue.”

-  


The brave knight called upon his friends and planned an assault to free the sorcerer from his imprisonment and imminent death at the tyrant’s hands.

  
-

By the time the others filtered into the tavern, Arthur was sitting at a table. His head felt mildly better after a drink of water but it still ached and his stomach roiled at the image burned into his mind’s eye of a limp Merlin being tossed over the saddle of a horse.

The group was there and they were all looking to Arthur for direction, even Gwaine, and he supposed it should’ve unnerved him but it didn’t. Instead, it felt like he was stepping into a role he was waiting for. It felt right, except for the head wound.

“Merlin has been captured by Uther,” Arthur said without preamble. “And to save him, I’ll need all the help I can get. Who’s in?” Arthur made sure to make eye contact with each of the people in the room.

Gwaine and Elena raised their hands immediately, shortly followed by Percival and Elyan. Leon looked around and Arthur didn’t blame him. He held no allegiance to Merlin since their brief interaction consisted of the aftermath of a brawl but Leon sighed and smiled and raised his hand as well.

“Leon,” Arthur said, and the smile on the bard’s face melted away.

“Yes?”

“You’re well travelled. Do you know of the bandit camp in the woods?”

Leon fidgeted for a moment before pulling himself up. “I know it.”

“Go there. Tell Morgana that Merlin has been captured and we are making a move on Uther. Bring her here immediately and any men she can muster.”

“I’ll need a faster horse. Mine is an old mare and won’t make the journey.”

“I have a horse he can use,” Elena said. “In the stable.”

Arthur nodded and regretted it but plowed through the pain. “Good. Go Leon, as fast as you can.”

Leon gave Arthur a short bow then left quickly.

“Percival,” Arthur said next. “Do you know where Lancelot and Guinevere were headed?”

Percival nodded. “Yes, Elyan and I encountered them not two days ago. They are not out of reach.”

Elyan agreed. “If we leave quickly enough, we can bring them back here.”

“Go find them and bring them back. We’ll need them, especially Lancelot’s sword.”

Percival gave Arthur a curt nod before walking out of the tavern with Elyan in tow.

The next task was going to be difficult but necessary and Arthur hated thinking about the possible implications. He cleared his throat.

“Someone needs to go to Uther’s citadel and find out if Merlin is still alive and find out when…” he trailed off and started again. “And find out any information they can about Merlin.”

Gwaine frowned. “I’m banished. I’ll be arrested on sight.”

“I’ll go,” Elena said quickly. “It’s the least I can do.”

“That’s very brave, milady,” Gwaine murmured. “It’ll be dangerous. Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll go quickly and just listen. I won’t ask questions unless I have to. It will arouse less suspicion.”

“Good thinking, Elena,” Arthur said. “Be careful but find out everything you can.”

“I’ll leave immediately,” Elena said, gathering her things and meeting Gwaine’s eyes in one last longing look.

She left the room to prepare, leaving only Arthur and Gwaine.

“What about me, Arthur? What would you have me do?”

Arthur tapped a nervous rhythm on the table. “We need horses and weapons. We need to plan,” Arthur gulped, “for every possibility.”

“Right,” Gwaine said. “Every possibility.”

The words hung between them but both were reluctant to clarify them further. They knew anyway, the what-ifs palpable.

 _What if Merlin were already dead? What if they didn’t have enough time to plan and rally those they could gather? What if Merlin were injured?_

“Do you know the citadel well?” Arthur choked out around the knot in his throat.

That seemed the right question to ask. Gwaine smiled large and mischievous and it eased some of Arthur’s apprehension.

-

Waiting was the hardest part. It wasn’t as if Arthur wasn’t busy. He and Gwaine sketched out a map in the dirt and planned a strategy as best as they could with not knowing what kind of assistance they would have. They also gathered as many supplies as possible without raiding Elena’s stores and without stealing… much. The problem was the quiet moments when Gwaine would lose himself in thought and he would purse his lips as he studied something. It was in those small lapses in time that Arthur could feel the panic niggling at the back of his brain. He wondered if Merlin was okay, alive even, hurt, scared. He wondered if he’d hear Merlin’s annoying voice again or feel the heat of his touch even if it was just in passing. He thought about the previous night, how they had been so close, how he should’ve closed the small gap between their mouths and tasted the ale that glistened on Merlin’s lips.

Gwaine would inevitably start talking again and Arthur would snap back into whatever mode he was operating in; supervisor, organizer and god forbid, leader.

It was well into the evening when Arthur and Gwaine heard the first set of pounding hoof beats approaching the tavern. The door flung open seconds later to a windblown Elena.

“Arthur,” she gasped, running in. Her dress was covered in dirt, her hair in disarray, and she clutched at Arthur’s forearms when he greeted her, keeping her wobbly legs steady. “He’s alive.”

Arthur heard Gwaine mutter a ‘thank the heavens,’ and Arthur was in agreement. He just couldn’t push anything past his throat.

“Alive?” he finally croaked after Elena met his gaze with worried eyes.

She nodded. “Alive.”

That single word pushed something through Arthur and suddenly he was invigorated.

“What else?” he demanded. “What else did you find out? Is he hurt? What’s going on?” Then it was Arthur clutching at Elena, his fingers wrapped tight around her elbows. “Tell me.”

“Whoa there, Princess,” Gwaine said, stepping in. He pried Arthur’s fingers off Elena and guided her to a chair. “She’s had a long ride. The other information can wait until she’s had a drink.”

Elena looked at Gwaine gratefully and sank into the offered chair. Gwaine quickly departed and came back with a cup of water. She took it from him and drank greedily, the water running down the corners of her mouth, down her chin, splashing onto her ruined dress. Gwaine sat down beside her, put his arm around the back of her chair in an obvious display.

“Sit down, Arthur. You’re making me tense,” Gwaine said, gesturing to a nearby chair.

Arthur felt stiff, uncoordinated, off-balance when he moved over to the chair and somehow he managed to get into it without hurting himself or anyone else.

When Elena finished with her drink, she set the cup down on the table, wiped her mouth with her sleeve and took a breath.

“He’s alive,” she said again, “but not for long. They’re building his pyre as we speak.”

Arthur’s heart set to racing. “When?” he asked. It came out in a small squeak and he cleared his throat. “When?” he said again, this time the word coming out minimally stronger.

“Tomorrow. Midday.”

“That gives us some time,” Gwaine said. “We’re lucky. Merlin’s….”

Gwaine was cut off as the door was pushed open with enough strength to bang against the wall. Morgana stood there in a blue cloak, dark raven hair twisted, hood up shadowing her face leaving only her eyes, bright and piercing, visible.

Mordred and Leon trailed behind her.

Morgana pulled off a set of riding gloves as she strode in.

“I hear we are going to war,” she said as she pulled up a chair to the table and sat primly, crossing her legs and pushing back the fabric obscuring her face. “At least, that is what the bard tells me.”

She gestured to Leon who gave Arthur a grin and a wave as he settled into his own seat.

“We’re not going to war,” Arthur corrected, turning back to Morgana. “We’re mounting a rescue.”

Morgana pressed her lips into a thin line and Arthur could feel the tension in the room ratchet up exponentially. “And why should I join in to rescue Merlin? He has hid his power all these years and has run away from his responsibility to the magic community while the rest of us have suffered. He’s never tried to rescue anyone else from the executioner’s block.”

“It’s a pyre,” Elena interrupted. “And Merlin helped me so I’m going to do what I can.”

“Are you magic?” Morgana asked, pinning Elena with a cold stare.

Elena straightened in her seat, not intimidated by Morgana’s harsh beauty.

“No.”

“I am.” Morgana’s eyes flashed and the cup sitting in front of Elena flew into the air then smashed itself onto the floor, pieces skidding along the wood. “My opinion weighs more heavily than yours.”

“Not here it doesn’t,” Arthur snapped. “I am leading this mission. I am making the decisions, Morgana. Either you are with us or you’re not. If you’re not, leave so we can plan. We have limited time and I will not waste it fighting with you.”

Morgana pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Maybe, but I will tell you this. If you help us, come with us, I will make sure that Merlin does not interfere with you doing what you need to with Uther. He might even be convinced to help your cause.”

Arthur watched as Morgana processed his words. Arthur bit his lip, held back the information about the quest he and Merlin were charged with by the dragon. No need for her to know at the moment and right then, he needed all the leverage he could get.

Morgana silently communicated with Mordred. Arthur could tell by the gold in their eyes and the almost frantic looks they cast at each other.

Finally, she looked to Arthur, her eyes back to their natural pale green.

“My men are gathered in the forest not ten minutes from here. They are at your command, Arthur. I hope you know what you are doing.”

Arthur smiled wryly. “Me too.”

-

As the hour grew later, Elena fixed dinner for all those involved while they continued to plan.

“We are few,” Morgana said, unrolling a map of the citadel onto the table that she had brought with her. It looked much better than the one that Gwaine and Arthur had etched into the dirt. “So we’ll have to be sneaky.”

“Gwaine and I have talked a bit,” Arthur said, trailing his finger along the map edge. “We think a diversion away from where Merlin is being kept will work to draw off the guards. Then a few of us will sneak into the dungeons and free him.”

Morgana nodded. “My men can create a diversion easily enough, leaving us free to get to Merlin.”

“Us?” Gwaine asked. “You won’t be with your men?”

Morgana shook her head, tendrils of dark hair falling into her face that she angrily brushed away. “No, Merlin will be drugged. I have an antidote that will help him wake but it must be administered carefully.”

“We’ll need time to find where he is. Elena couldn’t gather that information without becoming too conspicuous.”

Morgana smirked. “I know how to find where he is. Mordred!” she called.

Mordred came over from where he had been following Elena around as she cleaned up after their dinner.

“Yes, Morgana,” he said, his voice sweet and childlike.

Arthur shuddered as he remembered Mordred’s creepy laughter in the forest. Gwaine raised an eyebrow.

“Can you find Merlin’s location in the citadel?”

Mordred nodded and closed his eyes. His face scrunched and he tightened his small fingers into fists. His small head jerked occasionally as if he was searching in the dark. After a few moments, he spoke, and it was low, eerie and sent a chill down Arthur’s spine.

“He’s sluggish,” Mordred said.

Morgana nodded. “He’s been drugged.”

“He’s in the dark. It’s cold. He’s scared. Emrys,” Mordred said, dragging out the s. “Where are you?”

Arthur leaned forward, enthralled, worried. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

Mordred winced. “Arthur,” he said. “Arthur. _Arthur_. He’s fine, Emrys. He’s here. Where are you?”

Arthur blinked back the overwhelming emotion that raised up when he realized Merlin was worried about _him_.

“Focus, Emrys,” Mordred whispered. “Where are… dungeon. The dungeon, a cell on the left. Shackles. Runes. Arthur.”

“I’m here,” Arthur said urgently. He leaned in until he was a hair’s breadth from Mordred’s face, palms flat against the tabletop. “I’m here, Merlin. We’re coming.”

“Guards. Many guards. He’s weak, sluggish.”

Mordred shook his head and then his eyes fluttered open. He flinched when he saw how close Arthur’s face was to his.

“He fell asleep,” Mordred said, stepping away from Arthur’s intense gaze.

Arthur blew out a breath and let his head sag forward. He centered himself before looking back up and meeting Gwaine’s and Morgana’s gazes. “Now, where should we place that diversion?”

-

Bent over the map, Gwaine and Morgana were having a heated argument on exactly where to put the diversion when the door opened again and Percival strode in, followed closely by Elyan, Lancelot, and Gwen. Gwen immediately walked past everyone and approached Arthur, flinging her arms around his neck and hugging.

“Oh, Arthur,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

Arthur stiffly patted her back. “He’s alive, Gwen.”

She let go and gave Arthur a soft, pitying look that he had seen before, that night at the restaurant, and if she kept looking at him like that over Merlin, Arthur was going to break the tenuous hold he had on his emotions.

“For now,” Morgana said, her voice bringing Arthur out of his thoughts.

Arthur nodded in recognition to Lancelot, Percival and Elyan. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Lancelot gave a short bow in return. “Merlin is my friend. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“Good,” Gwaine interrupted. “Let’s get him back, shall we?”


	6. Part 5

\--

The brave knight led his companions into battle to rescue the sorcerer, his friend.

  
\--

They rode out in groups, hours before dawn when the night was at its darkest. Rolling clouds obscured the moon from sight and made their passage from the little town toward the citadel tricky but also hidden from prying eyes. Arthur rode a horse for the first time in years but he kept close to Morgana and Lancelot and made the journey without significantly injuring himself.

The rest of the group had split up. Percival, Elyan and Gwen had gone with Morgana’s forces to oversee the diversion while Gwaine and Leon had planned to be the last to leave the tavern, protecting the group from the rear and ready to barge in if needed. Of course, Gwaine had tried to convince Elena to stay behind but Arthur knew that Elena wouldn’t stand for it and was more than likely saddling her horse to come after them.

In the dark, the citadel’s walls loomed in front of them like stone giants, impenetrable and intimidating. The gargoyles that lined them peered down, misshapen by the shadows and more the ominous for it. It almost reminded Arthur of his father’s home, clearly built to keep people out, impersonal and unapproachable, just like how his father had become after his mother’s death.

Morgana led them to a copse of trees, just off to the side of the iron gates, to dismount and tether their horses.

“From here it’s on foot. And if your friends have done their jobs, those gates will be open.”

“They’ll be open,” Lancelot said. “I know Percival and Elyan and those gates don’t stand a chance.”

Creeping about, sticking to the shadows, and being as quiet as possible had Arthur remembering the few times he had snuck in and out of his father’s mansion as a teenager. Those days always held a modicum of excitement and were marked by butterflies in his stomach, sweaty palms and the always nervous fear of getting caught by his father and being grounded until he was eighteen. Those times, those meaningless little moments of teenage rebellion, had nothing on this. He felt so fluttery in his stomach he was sure he was going to shake apart and the only thing keeping his hands from trembling was the tight grip he had on his sword hilt.

The trio slipped along the wall to the gate passing two bound, gagged and unconscious guards. The wrought iron was gaping open as Lancelot predicted and the three of them slipped into the courtyard on silent feet. The moon peaked from behind a cloud, long enough for Arthur to catch a glimpse of a wood stack erected in the square; Merlin’s pyre. The structure looked like a skeleton in the pale light.

He hadn’t realized he had stopped to stare until Morgana tugged on his sleeve. “Come on,” she whispered sharply.

She led them to a shadowed alcove on the outskirts of the courtyard and there they stopped.

“Now it’s time to wait,” she murmured.

Arthur leaned against the wall next to Lancelot and tried to keep his breathing from sounding too harsh in the silence. Lancelot nudged him with his shoulder and gave him an encouraging nod before turning around to gaze out into the darkness. A few guards completed their rounds and during those times, Arthur felt his whole body go rigid and he kept his lips clamped shut until they passed. After the third pair, he wilted against the stone, his muscles protesting the continued tense state.

He didn’t stay that way long because soon after, Morgana tapped him on the shoulder and pointed.

It was an orange flickering of light. It looked like a small campfire from the distance but soon it grew and Arthur could barely make out the shadows around it, shaped like people, as they worked near the flames.

He knew what was coming next. His adrenaline spiked, his muscles contracting and ready to spring into action.

“Wait for it,” Lancelot whispered.

Suddenly, there was an explosion, a loud cacophony of noise that ricocheted off the stone and the once-flickering light became a pillar of fire that lit up the courtyard. For a moment, Arthur was blinded, the red-orange brilliance taking up his vision and he turned his head away as the fire died down slightly.

Then there was chaos.

The warning bell started ringing and Morgana placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“That’s our cue.”

He nodded, mouth too dry to talk, as he followed Morgana and Lancelot, sticking to the shadows. Uther’s guards poured from every entrance, every opening, carrying torches and swords as they headed toward to where the fire blazed, orange and hot. Thick roiling smoke filled the courtyard in grey billows.

Arthur didn’t think, tried not to think, about Percival and the others on the opposite side of that fire, lying in wait for those hapless guards.

Morgana led them deeper into the citadel, a twisting and turning route that kept them out of the path of watchful eyes and into the heart of the castle itself, leaving behind the shouts of soldiers and the crackling of flames.

“Not much further,” she whispered at one point over her shoulder.

Arthur nodded, trying not to pant and inhale more smoke than he already had, and trying to stay pressed as close to the stone in the shadows as possible as sweat ran in rivulets down his back, between his shoulder blades, underneath his borrowed tunic.

“This way,” Morgana said again with a wave of her hand.

The trio took a blind corner and Arthur ran into Morgana’s back as she skidded to a stop. The hallway was occupied and surprisingly, they were standing in front of four very bewildered guards.

Arthur felt his own expression mirror theirs and for a split second no one moved. Then they were all pulling their swords and Arthur managed to slide his free of the scabbard just in time to block a blow aimed at his head. The hallway was narrow and it was a fight to keep from running into anyone else and having enough space to follow through with the moves Gwaine and Lancelot had taught him. He managed it though, with what he knew to be ungraceful and jerky movements, and maneuvered himself close enough to knock his hilt into the man’s skull. The guard fell like a puppet with the strings cut and Arthur allowed himself a small moment of triumph.

It was short-lived, however, when the fourth guard gave up on trying to double-team Lancelot and came swinging at him. Arthur felt the stinging cut in his side as the cold blade sliced through his shirt and his skin. He felt the tacky warm liquid oozing from the wound, staining his skin, and seeping into his tunic. He staggered back, teeth clenched in pain, and he grunted, moved clumsily, parrying another blow.

It _hurt_.

Pain radiated into his ribs, stealing his breath, making his eyes water. The grip he had on his sword slackened and another accurate blow from his opponent had his blade clanging to the flagstones.

Arthur thought of his mother reading to him about how the brave knight conquered the kingdom. He thought of his home. If he died here would anyone know, or would he just cease to exist, fade away into obscurity? He thought of Merlin lying in his cell waiting for a rescue that wasn’t going to happen and he gasped at the thought when the guard raised his sword for the killing stroke.

Arthur closed his eyes and waited.

There was a surprised gasp, a sickly wet sound and Arthur opened his eyes.

The guard had a sword sticking through his chest, blood running down the blade, and when the sword was pulled back out, he fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

Lancelot stood behind him, holding the sword, brown eyes worried.

“Arthur,” he asked. The knight came forward, took a step over the guard’s body, and placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Arthur struggled for breath. “Yeah,” he answered.

He pushed himself from the wall, the dripping wound a burning pain in his side. Bearable, if only.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Morgana wiped her blade on a body and slid it back into its sheath.

“The dungeons are this way.”

-

The dungeons were damp and cold and sparsely guarded. Morgana and Lancelot easily knocked out the two soldiers standing at the top of the stairs with well-placed blows while Arthur tried to stay standing. Lancelot lit a torch off one of the sconces and they descended down the winding stone staircase.

They found a door on the left, heavy and wooden, with runes carved in the stone around it.

“This is it,” Morgana said with a nod. “The runes are to keep the magic users suppressed if the drugs wear off.”

“Uther’s cautious,” Lancelot observed.

Morgana nodded. “And cruel.” She turned to Arthur. “Be prepared, Arthur. Merlin has been cut off from his magic. He’ll be injured.”

Arthur swallowed. “Open it,” he commanded.

Lancelot used the keys pilfered from the unsuspecting guards, unlocked the door and pulled it open with a heave. It creaked on old hinges and scraped across the filthy stone floor. It was huge, rough-hewn, and by the grunts Lancelot was making each time he pulled to get the space just a little bit wider, it was heavy. Finally, Arthur was able to slide into the cell, Morgana close behind him, torch held over her head casting slivers of flickering light along the walls.

Arthur sucked in a breath because finally, _finally_ he had found Merlin.

Merlin was laying on a scattering of hay, hands chained together over his head and then to the wall. He appeared to be asleep, his chest rising and falling shallowly in the dim light.

Arthur dropped to Merlin’s side, his knees hitting the stone hard sending a jolt of pain up to his ribs. With trembling fingers, Arthur reached out and touched Merlin’s grubby cheek.

“Merlin,” he said, softly. “Merlin.”

Merlin didn’t move, his features lax.

“Here,” Lancelot said, offering Arthur the keys to unlock Merlin’s fetters.

Arthur blindly took them, scowling as he unlocked the iron cuffs around Merlin’s wrists and seeing the ring of dark ugly bruises. He rubbed his thumb over them, brushing away the caked-on dirt to find Merlin’s pale skin and the warm pulse beneath. Arthur felt the hard knot that had resided in his chest since Merlin’s capture ease slightly.

“Arthur,” Morgana said, sitting next to him and handing off the torch to Lancelot, “get him up. I need to give him the antidote.”

Awkwardly and painfully, Arthur managed to lift Merlin slightly then slid his right side beneath his friend’s limp body until Merlin was half-sitting, his head lolling against Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur could feel the hot puffs of Merlin’s breath flutter against his neck and he reveled in the feel of it despite the direness of their situation.

Morgana pulled out a vial and uncorked it with her teeth while she steadied Merlin’s head with her other hand, slipping her thumb between his lips, and pressing her fingers into the joint of his jaw to part his mouth wider.

“Merlin,” she said soothingly, a tone Arthur had only ever heard his Morgana use with children and kittens, “if you can hear me, swallow this.”

Merlin again made no movement.

Morgana poured a few drops of the concoction down Merlin’s throat and almost immediately his eyes fluttered.

“Good, Merlin,” Morgana said and poured a few more drops of the liquid down his throat.

Arthur watched as Merlin’s throat bobbed and his fingers twitched. He let out a pitiful groan and Arthur couldn’t help but grasp him a little tighter.

“A few more drops,” Morgana said as she administered the antidote, “and he’ll wake right…”

Merlin sat up quickly, eyes open and fetching wildly around in the dark, feet scrabbling across the floor, arms flailing as if fighting off unseen attackers. Arthur held him tighter and Merlin bucked in his grip.

“Merlin!” Arthur cried as Merlin’s head glanced off his jaw, sending his own head into the stone. “Calm down, will you?”

The fighting stopped and Merlin slumped back against Arthur’s shoulder, and looked up at him with wide dazed eyes. “Arthur?” he asked, soft, plaintive, his voice sounding like sandpaper.

“Yes. Can you walk?”

Merlin’s fingers clutched at Arthur’s shirt, tangled in the laces, and quivered against Arthur’s skin when they trailed down his neck. “Arthur?”

“He’ll still be a bit dazed,” Morgana said, getting to her feet, “but he’ll come out of it. Now, we need to get out of here.”

Lancelot handed the torch back to Morgana and helped Arthur get Merlin to standing, albeit wobbly on both their parts. Lancelot swung Merlin’s arm around Arthur’s shoulders and Arthur steadied Merlin with a hand around his waist, his fist clenched into the fabric of Merlin’s threadbare, ripped tunic. He pulled Merlin close to his uninjured side, clutching at him almost as desperately as Merlin was clutching back.

Merlin lifted a hand to his head, pressed the heel of it against his temple, and looked around bewildered.

“What’s going on?”

“This is a rescue,” Arthur answered with a forced smile. “But it won’t be much of one unless we actually get out of the dungeon.”

“You came… for me? A rescue?”

Arthur gulped, his heart swelling at the expression of wonderment on Merlin’s dirty face but everything he wanted to say, the _of course I’d come for you idiot_ , and the _you’re special to me_ could wait, until they were out of the mess they were in and they didn’t have a knight and a bandit staring at them impatiently.

“Don’t think too hard, Merlin. You might hurt yourself. Now, come on.”

The group left the cell, Merlin’s feet an uncoordinated mess that almost sent Arthur sprawling, and pulled at the wound in his side, but somehow they made it up the stairs and back to the ground floor. The guards were still out but they could hear the chaos from the diversion raging outside, closer than before.

There were shouts and the unmistakable clang of metal against metal as Uther’s soldiers and Morgana’s rebels clashed.

Merlin struggled in Arthur’s grasp, listing and uncoordinated, and confused. “What’s going on?” he said, his blue eyes wide but glazed.

“I told you,” Arthur grunted, hauling Merlin back upright, “it’s a rescue. Quit squirming.” Arthur bit his lip, the wound in his side agony from the jerkiness of their combined movements.

They made it to the courtyard, Morgana and Lance both with blades out, not bothering to try and stay hidden any longer. There was no point. Dawn was approaching, the sky lightening with each moment, and the scene they came upon was a frenzy of movement, of lines advancing and falling back, screams and yells, clangs and thuds.

The rebels were clearly outnumbered and losing, being corralled away from their escape.

“Fall back!” Morgana yelled, her eyes sparking gold in the rising sunlight, her voice amplified by her magic. “Regroup!”

Gwen came running from around a corner, hair a wild mess, sword in her hand stained red, Leon following close behind her.

“We’re being overrun. Gwaine is injured. Percival and Elyan have been cut off.”

More people flocked to them, backing up as they engaged the guards and soldiers of Uther’s kingdom, penning the group in. Gwaine was fighting, limping, a cut on his cheek and blood blossoming across the shoulder of his tunic. Percival was fighting three men, sword flashing, muscles straining, desperately trying to make his way toward Elyan, who was surrounded, fighting for his life while backed against the wall.

They were losing.

Arthur spun Merlin around to face him, gripped his biceps hard, holding him up with sheer will alone.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled, as Leon and Gwen, Morgana and Lancelot engaged the soldiers surrounding them. “Merlin! You have to do something!”

Merlin looked at Arthur blearily. “I can’t,” he answered, voice rough from disuse. “My magic… I can’t.”

Arthur looked around desperately; another phalanx of guards was marching toward them. He gave Merlin a shake that was none too gentle.

“Of course you can. You can make flowers out of nothing. You can keep people from falling. You can heat bathwater and make plants dance.”

“No… I can’t… the drug.” Merlin lifted his hand, flexed his fingers. “It’s not there.”

Arthur heard someone cry out in pain and it sounded like Gwen.

“What about… your book?” Merlin asked.

Arthur wanted to sob. His strength was leaving him, flowing out of his body with the blood that was running over his skin, down his side in warm rivulets. His friends were injured, fighting exhausted. Merlin was drugged, his pyre not ten feet away, ready to engulf him in a fiery excruciating end and _he_ was worried about Arthur’s book.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and tears pricked at the corner.

“We’re going to die, Merlin. You’re going to burn if…”

Fire.

Fire!

The dragon.

Arthur _remembered_.

He remembered the vivid pictures of the dragon attacking the castle; claws outstretched, jaws open, breathing fire.

Arthur laughed, feeling the lightheadedness of blood loss seeping in or maybe it was the futility of their quest, of the whole damn thing, because they were going to die, in the courtyard and Arthur would have never even kissed Merlin.

“The dragon,” he said, leaning in, resting his forehead against Merlin’s. “The dragon.”

Merlin giggled too. “Okay,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against Arthur’s in the semblance of a farewell kiss. “I can do that.”

Arthur snapped his head up as Merlin lurched away from him unsteadily in a surprisingly strong and quick movement. Merlin looked up to the sky, illuminated by fires and the red and gold of the rising sun, ethereal, powerful.

“Dragon!”

Merlin’s voice rent through the dawn, sliced through the din of battle, otherworldly, as he continued speaking in a language that was ancient and beautiful.

Arthur watched mesmerized, as did most everyone else, as Merlin called for the dragon, his pale throat moving, his chest heaving with each breath. When the last syllable slid from his tongue, he took a breath, staggered back, pressing himself next to Arthur against the stone wall.

Arthur’s vision was greying at the edges and he felt sleepy, heavy, but he leaned in anyway and pressed a kiss to Merlin’s lips.

-

Arthur heard more than saw the dragon land. He caught a few brief glimpses of massive leathery wings and of everyone scurrying out of the beast’s way but that was it, because as soon as Gwaine turned to him and smiled, and he felt Lancelot’s hand clap him on the shoulder, his legs gave out.

There were indistinguishable shouts of “he’s hurt!” and “get the physician!” Arthur knew he was carried into some kind of hall. He heard his shirt being ripped and felt someone prodding painfully at his side and he felt Merlin’s feverish palm on his forehead and heard his worried voice whispering in his ear.

“Arthur! Arthur!”

It was all secondary though to the knowledge that he _had_ kissed Merlin and that was the thought he held on to when he slipped into darkness.

\--  


The brave knight awoke.

  
\--

Arthur came back to consciousness slowly. His body ached. His throat was dry and he felt as if he could slip back into sleep easily. The bed beneath him was soft, the pillow lush and the blankets warm. The only reason he didn’t slip back into sleep were the concerned voices on the edge of his awareness.

“When will he wake up, Gaius?”

Arthur heard the worry in Merlin’s voice.

“He’s lost quite a bit of blood, Merlin. You should come away and rest yourself.”

“No,” Merlin replied quickly, vehemently. “I’m staying here.”

Arthur heard a long suffering sigh and a shuffling of steps and the sound of a door closing.

Arthur pulled his eyes open which was much harder than it had any right to be.

He was in a large bed in an even larger room and Merlin was sitting next to him, looking haggard and exhausted, and staring off into the distance.

Arthur tentatively cleared his throat.

Merlin’s gaze immediately snapped to him, blue and intense. Merlin’s jaw was clenched as he ran assessing eyes over Arthur’s form before breaking into a tired lovely smile.

“You’re awake.”

“It would seem so,” he responded, voice thick in his throat. Before he had to ask, Merlin had scooted closer, a tin cup in his hand.

“Water?” he offered.

Arthur nodded, pushed himself up onto his elbows and allowed Merlin to hold the cup to his lips. He sucked down the liquid greedily until the cup was dry. Arthur sank back, feeling sore.

“What happened?” he asked.

Merlin bit his lip. “I called the dragon. You kissed me. The dragon showed up and the fighting stopped.” Merlin smiled. “You’d be surprised what the presence of a dragon does to morale.”

Arthur snorted. “I bet. Is everyone okay?”

Merlin nodded. “Gwaine got a nasty cut. Gwen sprained her wrist. No one as bad as you.” The last part was said a little accusingly. Arthur winced.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? You almost bled out, Arthur!”

“I couldn’t. I had to finish.”

“Why?” Merlin demanded. His hands flailed and it was most angry Arthur had ever seen him. “Because of some quest? Some misplaced sense of duty? You could have found another way! There was no point in endangering your life…”

“It was because of you!” Arthur interrupted with his voice raised, tone sharp. “I wasn’t just going to leave you to die, Merlin! I needed to save you.”

Merlin blanched. He looked stunned, hands twisting into knots. “For me?” he croaked, disbelief colouring his tone. “You could have….for me?”

“It was a rescue,” Arthur grumbled.

Merlin was looking at Arthur like he was seeing him for the first time. “You kissed me.”

Arthur nodded. “I did.”

“I…I…” Merlin stuttered then sighed. And before Arthur knew it, he had a lapful of eager sorcerer.

Merlin scrambled up onto the bed, sending the bedclothes into disarray, and straddled Arthur’s hips, his bony knees sinking into the mattress on either side. Arthur’s side ached from the movement but he didn’t dare say anything, only settled his hands on Merlin’s waist.

And then, Merlin was leaning in and kissing him.

It was more a mashing of mouths than an actual kiss. Merlin’s nose bumped painfully into Arthur’s, their teeth clacked and Arthur was sure he would have a bruised bottom lip from the force of it. It was a kiss tinged with desperation, elation and fear. Arthur reached up with one hand, cradled Merlin’s jaw, his fingers teasing the curve of an ear while his other hand squeezed Merlin’s hip, grounding him. He pulled away slightly, pressed small kisses to Merlin’s eager lips, gentling him, until Merlin relaxed, melted into it with a sigh.

Arthur didn’t know how long they kissed and he didn’t care. He reveled in it. The sweet press of Merlin’s mouth, the hot glide of his tongue, and the small appreciative noises he made each time Arthur nipped his lush bottom lip.

Merlin shifted, his knee knocking into the wound in Arthur’s side. It sent a hot flare of pain that had Arthur pulling away, gasping, dropping his head back into the fluffy pillow with a strangled cry.

“Oh! Arthur! I’m sorry!” Merlin said, pulling away quickly, rocking the mattress and making Arthur clench his jaw shut. “I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Arthur breathed through it and ignored the water gathering at the corners of his eyes and instead focused on the glassy blue of Merlin’s and the red of his kissed-flush mouth, and the pink high on his cheeks.

“I’m alright,” Arthur said after a long minute of regaining his composure.

“I should give you more tea. Gaius brews it specifically for injuries to help with the pain.”

Merlin gingerly hopped off the bed and poured a cup of tea from a pot sitting on the table nearby.

“Here, drink this.”

Arthur eyed it warily as he took the cup from Merlin’s hand. “Will this make me sleep?”

Merlin nodded. “Yes, but you’ll feel better.”

“How long have I been out?” Arthur asked, sniffing the contents of the cup.

“About a day,” Merlin answered with a shrug.

“And you? When was the last time you slept?”

Merlin looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his neck. “I needed to make sure you were going to wake up.” He looked down and away and Arthur saw the lingering exhaustion in the line of his body and the pallor of his complexion.

Arthur sighed. “I’ll drink this on one condition.”

Merlin met Arthur’s gaze, his expression one of confusion.

“If you get in this bed and sleep with me.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a suggestive smile.

“Just sleep,” Arthur clarified. “This bed is surely big enough for the both of us and I’m not taking no for an answer, anyway.” He gestured toward the soft bed. “Get in.”

Arthur watched as Merlin held a silent war with himself before tiredly sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached down and unbuckled his boots before toeing them off and crawling slowly across the mattress. He slid under the blankets next to Arthur, settled on a pillow and propped himself up on an elbow. He nudged Arthur’s shoulder.

“Drink,” he ordered.

Arthur did. The liquid was bitter on his tongue but slid down his throat easily enough. He sank back into the pillow and Merlin lay down next to him. Arthur’s eyes were getting heavy, the drink taking its toll quickly on his already-fatigued system. He reached out his arm, grasped Merlin by his tunic and tugged him nearer.

Merlin inched closer, rested his head on the pillow next to Arthur’s shoulder and gave him a lazy smile.

Arthur returned it before he drifted off to sleep.

-

Arthur and Merlin awoke to a pointed cough. Merlin snorted as he jerked away, his legs sliding from where they were entwined with Arthur’s, his arm moving from where it had been draped lazily over Arthur’s chest. Somehow, during their nap, they had become entangled and once again, they woke up cuddling.

Merlin sleepily rubbed his eyes and Arthur would’ve found it endearing if Gaius hadn’t been standing in the room looking at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Though I am glad you finally got some rest, Merlin, this isn’t quite what I meant.”

Merlin gave Gaius a sheepish smile.

“Well,” Gaius said, shuffling around the room. “I hope you are feeling better, Arthur. The king has requested an audience with you and your followers.”

Arthur pushed himself into a sitting position and tried to ignore the pull of the bandage at his side and the burn of pain.

“An audience with the king?” Arthur asked.

Gaius nodded sagely. “You were the leader of the rebels that stormed the castle,” he said while pouring a mixture into a cup and handing it to Arthur. “Drink this.”

Arthur drank obediently and tried not to make a face at the bitter mixture.

“I am missing something,” he said, after he swallowed. “Why would the king want to see me?”

“You have defeated the king’s army, granted with much help, but conquered all the same. You and King Uther must come to an agreement about the rule of the kingdom and you must do so quickly.”

Arthur sat up quickly, surprised. “I must…” he turned cast a disbelieving look at Merlin. “I have to do what?”

“It’s the rules of war, Arthur,” Gaius explained patiently.

Merlin patted his hand and gave him sympathetic sort of look. “It’ll be okay.”

“Okay?” Arthur asked exasperated, running a hand through his hair and tugging on the ends. “What should I say? What should I _do_?”

“For starters,” Gaius said evenly, after checking Arthur’s bandages, “you should get dressed.”

-

The audience chamber was packed, mostly with people Arthur knew, looking rested but bruised. Arthur stood stiffly in front of the throne, his companions behind him, offering silent support in the face a man that looked like his father but older, haggard. King Uther wore a burnished gold crown on his head and had a scar on his forehead but otherwise he was the image of his father and Arthur could recognize the expression of silent disapproval at the motley crowd in front of him.

Arthur tugged at the high collar of his jacket nervously, and wondered again where Merlin had found him such fine clothes and why he needed them anyway.

Merlin elbowed him and Morgana swatted at his arm.

Uther stood from his throne and a general hush fell over the crowd. He stepped down from the raised dais and stood on the floor amongst the common people.

“Who is the leader of this rabble?” he asked, flinty gaze passing over the group. Arthur didn’t fail to notice how it softened when he looked at Morgana.

Arthur drew in a breath and stepped forward. “I am.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m Arthur.”

Uther crossed the small space until he was standing in front of Arthur. He appraised him with a calculated look.

“Well, Arthur,” he said. “You’ve defeated my army. By the laws of war, you’re entitled to make demands. What do you want of Camelot?”

“I want… ” Arthur trailed off and licked his dry lips. This may not have been his father but there was a part of his father in this Uther, this representation, and if there was anything that Arthur had learned, that he wanted to pass along, this was the time to voice it. He felt Merlin’s comforting hand on his back and Morgana’s pointy elbow digging into his side. Arthur cleared his throat. “I want you to believe in magic.”

Uther looked genuinely surprised. It quickly turned into a sneer. “I _know_ what magic is, boy.”

“No,” Arthur answered. His voice rang out in the room, echoed along the stone. “You don’t. You think you do, but anyone who knows what magic is would not ban it from their kingdom. They would embrace it.”

Uther stalked in front of his throne. “Are those your terms? That I allow magic back into my kingdom?”

Arthur straightened. “Yes, and to ensure that you allow magic to flourish, I appoint the Lady Morgana as your co-regent.”

Uther sighed then sat back into the throne. He rubbed a hand over his brow.

Arthur approached. “Queen Ygraine loved magic and by honoring it, you honor her.”

Uther looked up, startled for a brief moment, before scowling. “Don’t presume to lecture me,” he said lowly, only for Arthur, eyes hard. He stood abruptly. “I agree to your terms under the rules of war,” he announced to the crowd. He gave one last stare toward Morgana before marching out of the room, his long black jacket flaring behind him.

Arthur turned around to face the cheering group. Morgana swept forward and kissed his cheek and he received handshakes and pats on the back from the bandits and from the knights. He accepted them but they were nothing compared to the beaming smile Merlin was giving him, brimming with pride and joy and affection.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, grasping Arthur’s hand, expression fond and triumphant, “you’ve brought magic back to the kingdom. Do you know what this means?”

Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hand. “Not really.”

“You’ve united the land,” Merlin explained. “You’ve won your passage home.”

“Oh,” Arthur answered. He forced a smile while his stomach sank like a rock.

-

Arthur snuck away from the celebration and stole back to the room he had woken in. Evening had fallen and an impromptu feast was in full swing but he didn’t much feel like celebrating. His side still ached and he felt worn out, tired, frayed at the edges. As much as he was glad that his quest was over, completed with only minor injuries, the thought of leaving this world, leaving Merlin, made him feel hollow.

Arthur rather liked Merlin, maybe even fancied him a bit… a lot. He liked him more than he liked any other human being and that was saying something. He would miss him, fervently, ardently, more than he would like to admit.

Arthur sank onto the bed and tugged off his boots. His feet had mostly healed but remained slightly tender. His side was another matter and he knew he might have to endure another bandaging session with Gaius. It didn’t matter anyway. He was leaving in the morning.

There was a sharp knock at his door and before he answered it creaked inward to reveal Merlin holding two stacked plates of food while two full mugs floated behind him. He smiled when he saw Arthur and came in, setting the two plates on the large table, the mugs following him and settling down as well. He flicked his wrist and the candles around the room lit, chasing off the shadows.

“I noticed you left and you didn’t eat,” Merlin said.

“I didn’t feel much like feasting,” Arthur answered.

“Oh, I can leave… ” Merlin said, gesturing to the door.

“Don’t!” Arthur said quickly. “I mean… stay, please.”

Merlin smiled. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Arthur shuffled awkwardly over and sat across from Merlin. His plate was full with meat and cheese, fruits, nuts, potatoes and some kind of sweet cake. It was by far the finest fare he had seen in the days he had been there but he wasn’t interested in it. He opted for staring at Merlin.

Merlin’s hair was curling around his ears. His lips were red and his jaw worked while he ate. His skin was pale in the flickering candlelight. He still looked fatigued, the skin around his eyes dark, tension in the line of his body, but when he smiled, it was bright and happy.

It stung.

“How was the feast going when you left?” Arthur asked, popping a grape into his mouth.

Merlin chuckled. “Well, Gwaine was wearing a flower in his hair. Leon was composing his tale while Percival and Elyan acted it out for the crowd. And Guinevere was in Lancelot’s lap.”

“And Morgana?”

“She went to talk to Uther,” Merlin said, wiping the foam from around his mouth after a long gulp of ale.

“That’s good. I’m happy,” Arthur said, taking a deep drink of his own. He _was_ happy for Morgana. A renewed relationship with Uther was what she needed. He swallowed through the tightness in his throat.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but you don’t seem happy. Is everything alright?”

“Of course I’m happy,” Arthur snapped. “I did what I had to, and now I am going home in the morning. Why shouldn’t I be happy?”

Merlin frowned. “Thank you, Arthur. I know I didn’t say it but I thought you knew. I am so grateful for everything you’ve done for all of us.”

“Yes, well, you’re welcome,” Arthur said, tone clipped.

“Have I… have I done something?”

Merlin’s voice was soft and tentative as he worried at his lip with his teeth.

Arthur looked up from his plate, took in Merlin’s wounded expression, and that was the end to Arthur’s self-restraint.

He stood suddenly, everything he wanted to tell Merlin lodged in his throat, burning in his chest. Instead, he pulled Merlin from his chair, his hand wrapped in the fabric of Merlin’s tunic, and hauled him in for a firm kiss.

It was awkward at first. Merlin was off-balance, mumbling something into Arthur’s lips while his hands scrabbled for purchase on Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur didn’t care even when Merlin’s noise bumped painfully into his. He tilted his head, licked his way into Merlin’s mouth, swallowing down Merlin’s moans as he swept his hands down the line of Merlin’s back, his palms settling on the jut of Merlin’s hips.

Merlin’s hands were buried Arthur’s hair, his fingers twined in the strands, tugging, as he bit down on Arthur’s bottom lip. A shock of pleasure-pain rippled down Arthur’s spine as Merlin soothed the bite with his tongue.

Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hip, his fingers drifting beneath the hem of Merlin’s tunic, caressing the slip of soft skin he found there. Merlin pulled back with a gasp at the touch.

“I want…I want…” Merlin said in deep pants, his hands running down Arthur’s shoulders, his arms, his chest, everywhere he could reach.

Arthur nuzzled at Merlin’s jaw, nipped his earlobe, sucked at the sensitive place behind Merlin’s ear, reveling in the sounds he elicited. “Tell me what you want, Merlin.”

Merlin shuddered in Arthur’s arms. “I want everything with you. Everything.”

Arthur kissed him again, softly, a slow press of lips and a quick swipe of his tongue. He pulled away, rested his forehead against Merlin’s, shared in Merlin’s hot breaths. “I’m leaving,” Arthur said, choked.

“I know,” Merlin answered. “But we have tonight.”

Arthur nodded, moved closer, curled his fingers into Merlin’s hair. “We have _all_ of tonight.”

They staggered toward the bed, giggling when Merlin became tangled in his shirt as they tried to divest each other of their clothing. They tumbled down into the mattress together, skin against skin, fumbling hands and slick mouths and gasping breaths. When Merlin arched beneath Arthur, his eyes glowed gold, and the candles flickered out.

-

The rose-pink dawn light caressed Merlin’s skin as he slept, the line of his body bared to the morning light’s soft kiss. He snuffled further into his pillow, arms crossed beneath. His lashes fluttered and he stretched, the light playing along the expanse of muscle and the dips and planes of his body.

Arthur watched him with half-lidded eyes. He skimmed his fingertips down the length of Merlin’s spine and Merlin twitched, let out an endearing snuff.

Arthur stifled a laugh. He stretched beneath the sheets himself, feeling pleasantly sore, and thankfully not sticky due to clever uses of Merlin’s magic.

He tried not to smile, but couldn’t stop it when he thought of the night prior and how they had laughed and touched, awkwardly at times, but connected. It had been effortless, easy, comfortable and intimate and though Arthur was going to miss Merlin like mad, he was glad they had shared the experience. It hadn’t been perfect by any means and yet, it had, because it was Merlin. It was something Arthur would keep with him and remember fondly.

Arthur poked Merlin in the side then lightly stroked Merlin’s shoulder blade and down over his ribs.

Merlin shifted and muttered, his eyelids lifting open to reveal clear blue.

“Hello,” he said, shyly, face half-turned into his pillow.

“Good Morning.”

Arthur leaned in and kissed him. He felt Merlin’s smile against his lips.

“We need to get up soon,” Merlin said, his voice a pleasant vibration against Arthur’s mouth.

“I know,” Arthur answered, but it didn’t stop him from pressing closer. Merlin was sleep-warm and soft and he smelled of sweat, bedding and magic. “I just want to make sure you’ll be alright.”

Merlin huffed, a hot puff a breath brushing past Arthur’s cheek as he nuzzled further into Merlin’s neck.

“I’m fine. I lived several years without your presence, you know.”

“I don’t know how as clumsy as you are,” Arthur murmured. He dropped his head, scattering kisses across Merlin’s chest as Merlin carded a hand through his hair, their limbs tangling together, reminiscent of the night before. “What will you do?” Arthur asked, the “without me” apparent but unspoken, Arthur hiding from it beneath sheets and in Merlin’s skin.

He felt Merlin shrug. “Not hide, for one,” he paused and Arthur felt his chest expand with a sigh. “Help Morgana, maybe. Go off and have an adventure. I don’t really know.”

“You’ll be careful?” Arthur squeezed Merlin’s thigh, dragged his teeth along Merlin’s collarbone.

“Yes,” Merlin gasped.

Merlin’s hands were tugging on Arthur’s hair.

“And you?” he asked. “What will you do?”

“Fix things,” Arthur said immediately. “Use what I’ve learned.”

“Maybe,” Merlin said, arching against the thigh Arthur had strategically placed between his legs, “you’ll find a version of me.”

Arthur suddenly stopped where he was sucking a bruise into Merlin’s skin and looked up. He met Merlin’s heated yet uncertain gaze.

“No, Merlin. I’m certain you are one of a kind.” Merlin’s expression turned soft, and Arthur looked away, unable to handle the affection he saw in Merlin’s gaze. “I don’t think I could ever…”

Merlin lunged up and stopped him with a kiss, urgent, searing, and flipped them so he was straddling Arthur’s hips, pressing him into the mattress. Arthur yielded beneath him and didn’t even notice when Merlin pulled the sheet over their heads.

-

They dressed in silence after Merlin magicked away the results of their morning conversation. They shared one last lingering kiss at the door, Arthur cupping Merlin’s cheek, his thumb sliding along Merlin’s cheekbone, before they pulled away and Merlin opened the door. Arthur followed him through the castle and into the courtyard.

The dragon was waiting for them, sunning itself on the stones, long body stretched to take up most of the space. Arthur’s and Merlin’s friends were taking up the remaining, standing together, talking and smiling. It made Arthur happy to see. He thought about having a party at his house and inviting them all once he got back.

Arthur felt he had come to terms with having to leave Merlin; he wanted to get the ordeal of leaving over with quickly, like ripping off a plaster, before he lost his nerve, or his handle on his emotions and began to start tearing up. It wasn’t happening though because his friends all wanted to say goodbye. He endured it despite his shaky grip on his composure. The kisses from Morgana, Elena and Gwen. The manly hugs from Gwaine and Lancelot. The slap on the back from Percival that had his knees almost buckling. The firm handshake from Elyan. And lastly, the short bow from Leon. All through it, he was very aware of the presence of Merlin by his side, the heat of him, his silent comfort.

By the end, Arthur could feel his hold slipping, his throat becoming tight, and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He bent his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment to regain his composure. He breathed a long sigh and when he looked up, it was just Merlin and him in the courtyard, the dragon watching them with yellow eyes and a knowing gaze.

“Are you ready to return back to your world, Arthur?” the dragon asked.

Arthur reached out, squeezed Merlin’s hand and nodded. “Yes.”

“Very well. You have earned your passage.” He moved to look at Merlin. “Come here, young warlock.”

Merlin stepped forward. The dragon bent down until his snout was right in front of Merlin and then he breathed.

Arthur didn’t know much about magic, other than that was what Merlin was, but he saw it then, the golden air swirling around Merlin, ruffling his hair and his clothes, encompassing the form Arthur had learned so well. Merlin turned to Arthur, his eyes glowing. He took both of Arthur’s hands in his own and smiled timidly.

“Take care of yourself, Arthur.”

Arthur swallowed. “You too.”

Merlin crowded into Arthur’s space and leaned in.

“Do you believe in magic?” he whispered against Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur’s voice was a shaky breath. “Yes.”

Merlin sealed his mouth gently over Arthur’s. Arthur’s lips tingled with magic and he gasped as Merlin muttered some words. His world faded in a wash of gold, the feeling of Merlin against him faded until it was only a phantom. The wind rushed in his ears and the last thing he registered was the soft sound of Merlin’s voice telling him goodbye.

-

Arthur’s alarm was blaring.

It was loud and obnoxious and Arthur wasn’t ready to leave the warmth of his bed, the softness of his pillows and blankets. He snuggled down further, reached out a lazy hand to smack the snooze and missed completely, succeeding in knocking the alarm to the floor.

Grumbling, Arthur blearily opened his eyes and leaned over the side of the bed. He turned off the alarm and looked around the room. His room.

 _His_ room!

Arthur jumped to his feet and looked around wildly, spinning, and stumbling in disbelief.

“I’m home,” he breathed.

Arthur looked down at himself and saw his rumpled shirt, tie, slacks and intact socks and frowned. He fingered the hem of his shirt, stroked down the silk of his tie. He knew it couldn’t have been a dream. Merlin had been real. Merlin _was_ real.

Arthur heard the distant buzzing of his phone and he twisted sharply at the sound. He gasped as pain flared up his side. Ignoring the phone, he quickly lifted his shirt and saw the stab wound and let out a slow ragged breath of relief. It had been real. All of it.

His legs went wobbly then and Arthur backed up to the edge of his bed and sank down slowly. The pages of the book crumpled beneath him and he quickly moved over, pulled the book from beneath the tangled blankets. It was open to the picture of the sorcerer and he stroked his fingertips over the watercolor.

“I believe in magic,” he said to the image and sighed.

Arthur closed the book and set it reverently on his nightstand. He had so much to do.

-

Arthur called Morgana and ended up talking to her for hours about publishing, and Gwen, and life and, of course, their father. By the end of the call, Morgana had been crying but happy and they had promised to get together outside of the office soon to do what siblings were supposed to do.

Arthur texted Gwen back and offered a short message of friendship and advice on making sure she connected with her brother. He received a confused but friendly message in return.

Arthur emailed Leon and asked him to drop off _his_ manuscript at the office on Monday.

Arthur called the gym and set up a training time with Percival with the intent of forging a friendship.

And lastly, he called Gwaine and asked him to meet him at the office on Monday for lunch.

With the last call and the last email sent, it was late afternoon. Arthur shut off his mobile and closed his laptop. It was a start in the right direction and he hoped that with time he would see the happy image of his friends standing together, laughing and smiling, like they had in the courtyard, but in this life.

There was only one thing left to do.

Arthur didn’t know what he would accomplish by going to The Grand Grimoire, but he knew he had to go. He had questions, about magic, about reality, and if Gaius didn’t know the answers, it would at least be a good place to start.

-

Arthur took a deep breath before reaching out for the tarnished doorknob of the building. His palms were sweaty and his hand trembled slightly before he pushed the creaky old door open.

The bookshop looked the same. It was still dusty. There was still an animal skull on the low table that Arthur almost knocked into. The shelves were bowed with books and when Arthur called out a ‘hello’ Gaius came from around the back, a large book under one arm.

“Arthur!” Gaius said genuinely surprised. He gave Arthur a smile. “I didn’t expect to see you back here so soon. Is everything alright with the book?”

“Yes, yes,” Arthur said with a nod. “It’s amazing, actually.”

“That’s wonderful. So what brings you in, then?”

Arthur swallowed. “Magic.”

Gaius lifted an eyebrow and Arthur walked forward until he was at the counter.

“I was wondering if you had ever heard of someone…”

The sound of the heavy front door scraping across the wood floor had Arthur trailing off and Gaius straightening behind the counter. Before Arthur could even turn he heard a familiar voice firing off a litany of excuses.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Gaius. I was caught in the library and then traffic and it’s a wonder I made it here at all and…”

Arthur turned and his heart skipped a beat. Merlin stood before him, red scarf wrapped around his neck, wire glasses sliding down his nose, hair a wind-blown mess. His ears were a brilliant red from the cold. He had a backpack looped over one arm so when he tried to squeeze through the small space between the door and the frame he got a little caught.

Gaius cleared his throat and Merlin stopped in mid-tirade.

He looked up and startled when his familiar blue eyes lighted on Arthur. “Oh! Hi!” he greeted, his cheeks pinking as he wrestled with the door before pulling his slight frame through. It slammed shut behind him.

“Merlin!” Gaius said exasperated. “This is Arthur Penn.” Gaius turned to Arthur. “Merlin is my new assistant. I just hired him this morning.”

Arthur barely heard him over the blood rushing in his ears.

Merlin grinned, bright and eager, and stuck out his gloved hand. “Hi, I’m Merlin.”

Arthur stared for a moment, struck by that smile, remembering everything that lay beneath it and in a breath searched for any sign of recognition. Merlin’s smile turned a little shy and coy, and he winked.

Arthur let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His chest flooded with warmth and affection and he knew it showed through in his smile.

“I’m Arthur.” He took Merlin’s hand and shook it firmly.

“Merlin just moved here,” Gaius said. “From a village.”

“In the north?” Arthur asked. “You look like you’re from the north.”

Merlin laughed, loud and boisterous. “How did you know?” he asked.

Arthur still held onto Merlin’s hand, afraid he would disappear, evaporate in a flash of gold. He stepped closer, looked into Merlin’s eyes.

“I know your type.”

“And what would that be?”

“One of a kind,” Arthur answered.

Merlin blushed a vivid red. Gaius cleared his throat behind them.

“Yes, well, I should get to work, Arthur,” Merlin said.

Gaius waved Merlin away. “Merlin’s new to the city, Arthur. Maybe you’d like to go show him around?”

Arthur didn’t take his eyes off of Merlin, merely nodded. “I’d love to. Would you like to go tour the city?”

Merlin smiled brilliantly. “That would be great. Thank you, Arthur.”

Arthur couldn’t bring himself to let go of Merlin so he guided him toward the exit. He opened the door wide enough to usher Merlin through but Merlin’s pack still bumped the small table next to the door anyway. Arthur saw it wobble, knew it was going to fall over and crash and as he readied himself for the loud sound of glass breaking, he watched as the table and its contents suddenly righted. Arthur looked up quickly and saw the glow of the street light reflecting in Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin shrugged. “I’m still a little clumsy,” he said with a sheepish grin, one hand gripping the strap of his backpack while the other was subtly pointed in the direction of the falling table.

Arthur nodded and smiled as he gestured outside. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

There were so many things Arthur wanted to know, needed to know. How did Merlin do it? How long had he been there? Was he there to stay? But all those things didn’t matter right then, with Merlin looking at him with such naked affection, like he was everything in the world. Outside, in the glow of the streetlamp, on the sidewalk in downtown, hand in hand, there was only one thing Arthur needed to know. He hauled Merlin in for a deep lingering kiss.

“Tell me, Merlin,” Arthur said, pulling away slightly, mouth tracing the shell of Merlin’s ear. “Do you believe in magic?”

  
\--  


The end.

  
\-- 


	7. Epilogue

  
**9 years later**   


Merlin quietly closed the door behind him, flipped the lock and let out a tired sigh. Slumping against the wall, he toed off his shoes and slid out of his jacket, allowing it to fall to the floor in a heap. He knew he should probably hang it up but he really was too exhausted to care.

Leon’s fifth book release party had gone brilliantly. The Grand Grimoire had been overflowing with enthusiastic fans all wanting an autograph from the famous author. The line had easily stretched around the block and Merlin had to work with the City to ensure none of his clientele blocked traffic. It had been a madhouse, a loud, hectic madhouse.

Merlin had hosted Leon’s previous events but it seemed each one was bigger and more extravagant than the last and brought more crazed people. Despite planning and precaution that took many weeks and included many long nights, there were a few snags. Merlin was completely exhausted from the exercise of herding people through the shop, but he was home now, the crowds dispersed and far away, and he could forget about them until Leon’s next book.

He closed his eyes and reveled in the blessed quiet of his house. The lights were dimmed and though he knew there was probably food waiting for him in the kitchen, he decided to head up the stairs to find his bed and collapse into it.

Once on the second floor, he was surprised to find light spilling from the room across from his and Arthur’s. The door was cracked open and Merlin heard a very familiar and very petulant voice break the silence of the house.

“I don’t want to go to bed. I want to wait for Papa!”

“Now Ygraine,” Merlin heard Arthur say patiently but firmly, “you know Papa is working tonight and you need to go sleep. You’ll see him in the morning.”

“I don’t want to sleep without Papa.”

Arthur sighed. “I know you love Papa very much. So do I. I promise you will see him in the morning.”

He heard the sound of a stamping foot. “No!”

“Ygraine,” Arthur said warningly. “Do you want to see Grandpa tomorrow? And Aunt Morgana and Uncle Leon?”

A pause then and Merlin peeked through the crack and smiled. His daughter stood next to her pink princess bed, her arms crossed over her chest, blond hair falling into her blue eyes. She stared at her father, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

“Do you think Grandpa will let me ride the pony?” she finally asked.

“Only if he knows you got a good night’s sleep.”

Ygraine wilted and climbed into her bed full of pillows and stuffed animals. Arthur pulled her blanket up to her chin and made sure she had her favourite bear.

“Could you read me a story, Daddy?” she asked.

Her eyelids were drooping already and her voice was tired but Arthur was a pushover when it came to his daughter.

“Sure, Princess. Which one?”

She yawned. “The one with the magic.”

Arthur smiled. He reached up to her bookshelf and pulled down a familiar book. Merlin leaned against the door jamb and quietly watched as Arthur sat on the floor next to their daughter’s bed and opened to the page with the picture of the sorcerer.

“How about I read about the troll?” Arthur asked, a small smile teasing his lips. Merlin suppressed a chuckle. He knew it was still his husband’s favourite part but Ygraine shook her head.

“No! Trolls are icky! Read about the girl in the tower.”

Arthur began to read and Merlin closed his eyes, melted into the doorframe as he lost himself in the rhythm and timbre of Arthur’s voice. Merlin knew the words by heart and he knew Arthur did as well. They had read the book over and over together and he remembered many nights lying in bed, whispering the words into each other’s skin, in awe over the object that had brought them together.

“ _The brave knight and the powerful sorcerer faced many trials and tribulations and became good friends along their journey. Together, with the use of sword and magic, they were able to defeat the tyrant and unite the kingdom. They restored peace and balance to the land. The knight ruled for many years with the sorcerer at his side and the people enjoyed a golden age of wisdom and magic. The End._ ”

Merlin heard the whisper of paper as Arthur closed the book and he opened his eyes to watch as his husband leaned down, gently brushed blonde hair away from the sleeping Ygraine’s face and kissed her head. Merlin felt affection swell in his chest and he couldn’t suppress the happy smile that bloomed across his face if he wanted to.

Merlin may have spent part of his life in a fairytale land with dragons and castles but this life with Arthur and Ygraine was his happily ever after.

“Hey,” Arthur said quietly when he looked up and spied Merlin in the doorway. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” Merlin answered with a smile.

Arthur crossed the room, wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist and guided him out of the doorway, switching out the light and closing the door after them. Merlin leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Arthur’s lips, mumbling a quiet “I love you,” against them.

Arthur hummed, chased after Merlin when he pulled away and ended up nuzzling into Merlin’s neck, hands clasped tightly on Merlin’s hips.

“I know you are probably exhausted,” Arthur whispered into Merlin’s collarbone, “but I’ve _missed_ you.”

Merlin grinned, ran his hands through Arthur’s hair. “I’ve missed you too.”

“Good, then you won’t mind the ravishing you are about to receive.”

Merlin laughed loudly and Arthur placed his hand firmly over Merlin’s mouth. “Shhh, we have to be quiet. We don’t want to wake the princess. Do you think you could…?” Arthur trailed off while waving his hand and raising an eyebrow.

Merlin smiled against Arthur’s palm and he reached for his magic, felt it flow through him in a warm wave. “I’ll make it soundproof,” he mumbled against Arthur’s palm.

Arthur growled playfully, nipping at Merlin’s ear, and Merlin held on, giggling and gasping as Arthur manhandled him into the bedroom, stripping clothes off as they went. Merlin waved his hand and the door shut firmly behind them.

-

Inside the book, that now had its place on a bookshelf in a small princess’s room, on the cover page were two inscriptions. The first was to a boy from his mother. The second was in two distinct hands beneath the first.

 ****

To our princess Ygraine,

May your life always be filled with Love and Magic and may you find your Happily Ever After.

Love,

Daddy and Papa

  


**Author's Note:**

> This is written for paperlegends 2011. I have a ton of people to thank. eldee for the cheerleading/reading and sheswatching. also for cheerleading/reading. And my two betas paragraphs. and archaeologist_d. And prplhez8 for the last minute help. This fic would not exist without all your help! I also need to thank all the awesome people in the Paperlegends and GSDMerlin chats that have kept me motivated. I also want to thank teaandtimecake who made some gorgeous art to accompany this.


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